Synchronicity
by I-Love-Capn-Raydor
Summary: after Dead Man's hand.  sort of spoilery, sort of not. brenda/sharon *chapter 28 onward has spoilers for Last Woman Standing. *chapter 35  has spoilers for Executive Order *assume spoilers for the rest of season 6 and 7.
1. Chapter 1

It was startling, how she'd gone from blind fury, to standing here, across the cold steel table, watching as the slender hands of the chief mimicked her own. Methodically, in an eerie synchronicity, the two women broke down the pistols, swapped the barrels, and rebuilt the guns, slamming the clips in with twin clatters of finality. Despite the gravity of the situation, the whole process had left Sharon Raydor slightly breathless. She stood with her arms crossed, a look of neutrality on her features, almost perfectly calm, except for the flashing green eyes, the tight jaw, the slightly thinned lips.

Brenda kept part of her attention on the Captain, even as she drove the final point home to Detective Dunn. The young officer's face fell as he realized just how deftly he'd been manipulated. Brenda had a wash of sympathy. She was feeling her own brand of guilt over the dead man on the slab next to her. She'd let her feelings about Raydor get in the way of her usual single-mindedness about a case, and because of that, a man was dead. Because of that, she was going to have to face the Captain with this failure on her hands. Because of that, she was having to look too closely at the root of the intensity of her feelings. She was never this wrecked when Pope or Taylor rode her ass. It was only the Captain. Just a glare from that woman's fathomless green eyes would send a blush flooding through Brenda, her heart racing, palms damp. Only the captain, who made her stammer and stutter in consternation, exasperation, and sheer oppositional fury. A captain. And she was the Chief! Okay, Deputy Chief, but still. For once, she was glad that emerald glare was turned on someone else.

Turning her head slightly, she ran her gaze over the Captain's face, taking advantage of the rare opportunity to study the woman so unguarded. She really was rather beautiful, despite her severe countenance. The Captain nodded once at the uniformed officers, and they led Moore and Dunn away. She was acutely aware of the chief's gaze, and she felt a slight blush steal over her cheeks. The realization of what had just transpired struck her hard, then. One of her own had used her, had capitalized on her emotions, to commit murder. She laid her hands flat on the table, closing her eyes, she let her head drop to her chest, breathing in slowly, trying to quell the angry tears that threatened just behind her sternum. Brenda caught the eyes of Flynn and the coroner, and tipped her head towards the door. Nodding, they quietly left, and Brenda looked at the Captain, unsure of what to do. It's not like they were friends. It's not like they even liked each other, for heaven's sake. Still, she could feel the emotion rolling off the captain in waves, and Brenda couldn't leave her, not like this. She reached out a hand, hovering it above the woman's shoulder, then hesitantly dropped it, giving a gentle squeeze.

"Cap'n, you can't blame yourself, she fooled everyone. And if she had been being truly abused, you would've been a perfect advocate. " She moved her hand in a reassuring circle on the Captain's shoulder blades. Sharon drew in a shuddering breath, and glanced over her shoulder at the Chief. Their eyes met, and Brenda realized with a start that the Captain was actually crying. Moving without thinking, Brenda stepped forward, circling Sharon in her arms. Sharon stiffened, and then let her head rest on the Chief's shoulder as the tears continued to fall. Brenda held her close, shushing her gently, and stroking her back. She leaned her cheek on the Captain's head, brushing Sharon's dark hair back away from her face. They stood like that for a long moment, and then Sharon stepped back, clearing her throat. Brenda released her immediately, taking a step back herself. An awkward silence hung between them, neither woman sure what to say, unaccustomed to the absence of animosity between them. Brenda glanced down at her shoes, over to the slab that held the body of Ally Moore's husband, and finally back at the Captain.

"Well, Cap'n. We both have reports we need to finish up, so, um, I'll walk you out?"

"Uh, thank you, Chief, for, um. This. I'm going to make a detour on my way up to FID, so, that won't be necessary. I...Thank you." Sharon spun on her heel and stalked past Brenda, pushing through the heavy doors of the morgue and disappearing from sight. Brenda stood still for a moment longer, then followed the woman through the doors.

Later that evening, Brenda sat at her desk, reading over her report one last time before handing it over to Chief Pope. She should've been finished hours ago, but she couldn't stop thinking about Captain Raydor, and the sensation of the woman's body pressed up against her own, solid and fragile at the same time, the citrus scent of her hair, the whispers of her breath. Brenda was beyond distracted, tapping her teeth with a pen, as she stared at the papers before her. Everyone else had knocked off for the evening, and the office was quiet except for the thrum of the air conditioner, and the drone of traffic from the freeway outside. Sighing, Brenda tossed the pen on her desk, and leaned back in her chair. She pinched the bridge of her nose, then rubbed a weary hand across her forehead, trying to stave off the encroaching headache. Closing her eyes, she dropped her head back on the chair, and tried some deep breathing to clear her mind, so she could focus. She was on her third round of inhale-exhale, when a knock at her door startled her. Sitting forward, she opened her eyes, and blinked in surprise at the sight of Captain Raydor in her doorway, clutching a manila folder in front of her like a shield.

"Um, Chief Johnson. I have the completed FID report here. If you could sign this page regarding your involvement, that would be great." Sharon leaned forward on the balls of her feet, waiting to be invited into the office.

"Well, sure. Sure Cap'n, that's no problem. Come on in, have a seat." Brenda took a deep breath, and tried not to notice the quickening of her pulse at the sight of the Captain's long legs crossing as she sat down.

"It figures you'd be done before me. I'm still making sure I've included all the relevant information in mine, and I'm having a heck of a time staying focused." Brenda let out a small chuckle at that, considering the reason for her poor attention span was sitting across from her, absently scratching her ankle. Brenda watched those slender fingers for a moment, wondering how they'd feel on her skin, before blushing furiously, and looking up at Sharon.

Sharon noticed the blush creeping across the Chief's face, and wondered what she'd interrupted.

"If this is a bad time, Chief, I can come back?" Sharon leaned forward as if to stand.

"No, no! No. Stay put. I'm just looking for my pen...I just had it here a minute ago. Oh for heaven's sake!" Brenda bent low at the waist to look under her desk, for the errant pen. Sharon sat quietly, and then shifted in her seat, and cleared her throat again.

"Chief, I wanted to apologize, to you. For earlier. That was wholly unprofessional behavior, and I can't. I don't know what...I'm not sure...At any rate. I'm sorry." Sharon was terrible with conversations surrounding emotion, and rolled her eyes at her pathetic attempt with the Chief.

Brenda sat up quickly, narrowly missing cracking her head on the desk. She looked at the Captain, who was staring fixedly at her hands, now clenched in her lap.

"Cap'n. I don't know what you're apologizing for. But don't think about it for one more second. It's fine. If anything, I should be apologizing to you. If I'd not avoided talking to the husband, things might've gone differently. So, to that end, I apologize. I let my personal feelings affect how I did my job, and now a man is dead. I just wish I knew why she did it." Brenda leaned back in her seat, the search for a pen abandoned for the moment.

Sharon was taken aback by the raw honesty of the Chief, and didn't respond for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. She smoothed the fabric of her skirt down, to give herself something to do with her hands, and, glancing up at Brenda, she watched the Chief's eyes follow the path of her hands, then sweep back up to meet her eye.

"Actually, Chief Johnson, that's part of why I brought the report in person. I wanted to show you something, that I believe is why Officer Moore started this whole plan in action." She stood, and crossed around to Brenda's side of the desk, and retrieved the manila folder, flipping through the contents til she found a sheaf of papers clipped together. She dropped it on the desk in front of Brenda, and leaned over the blond woman's shoulder, bracing her hand on the desk.

"This is a copy of Moore's mortgage. They were getting ready to be foreclosed upon, unless..." She trailed off, giving the Chief a chance to finish the thought.

"Unless one of them died, triggering the mortgage insurance." Brenda shook her head in disbelief.

Sharon gathered the papers back up, replacing them in the folder, and flipped through again, finding the paper that needed Brenda's signature.

"If you could sign this one, then I'll be on my way." Sharon straightened up, and leaned against the desk, crossing her ankles casually.

Brenda was acutely aware of the Captain standing a few inches away. From the corner of her eye, she took in the gray suit, with the tailored jacket, and pencil skirt, the woolen fabric hugging the curves of the Captain in all the right places. The bare legs, slender, shapely, traveling into the simple pumps, crossed at the ankles. Shaking her head slightly, she glanced back at her desk, lifting papers to find her wayward pen.

Sharon glimpsed the white barrel of Brenda's pen, and reached out to retrieve it at the same time Brenda noticed it, and reached for it. Their hands brushed, and the sensation of the Chief's skin on hers set Sharon's nerves on fire. She pulled back, but the Chief grabbed her hand, flipping it over, and holding it in her own, palm side up. Sharon's breath caught in her throat. She wasn't sure exactly what was happening, but she knew she was balancing on the edge of a knife here, with Brenda, and that one way or another, they were going to fall. If she was honest with herself, she purposefully antagonized the Chief. If she was honest with herself, she did it because the alternative was pressing her against the nearest wall, and kissing her senseless. If she was honest with herself, she loved the flushed, indignant look. But Sharon was a master of repression. She was rarely this honest with herself, and right now, the feel of her hand in Brenda's was almost her undoing, so close on the heels of their unexpectedly tender embrace earlier in the day. Brenda brought her other hand up, and traced the lines of the Captain's palm, marveling at the smoothness of her skin, the softness. Gently, she whispered her fingertips along Sharon's slender wrist, feeling the small bones beneath her skin. She was so soft, her pale skin almost translucent here, the blue tributaries of vein visible. Brenda could actually see her pulse, so quick, beating there, beneath her thumb. Sharon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the storm gathering within, trying to muster the power to snatch her hand away, to regain control of herself, of the situation. Before she could move, the Chief shifted, bringing the Captain's hand up, pressing her lips to the tender skin of her inner wrist. Then, she let go, and snatched up her pen, scribbled her name on the form, and shoved the paper back towards Sharon.

"Well, Cap'n. I've got to uh, finish up my editing, here. I have to meet Fritz for dinner soon, and so, I'll be seeing you later, m'kay?" Brenda pulled her chair close to the desk, and violently stacked her papers on the desk, her hands trembling as she moved.

"Right. Well. I'll leave this on Pope's desk. Have...have a good night, Chief Johnson. Tell Agent Howard I said hello." Sharon pushed off of the desk, on slightly weakened knees, and strode to the door. She turned, one hand on the knob, and opened her mouth to speak, but just then the Chief looked up, and met her eyes with a smoldering gaze. Sharon snapped her mouth closed, and left the room, stunned into silence at the intensity of that interaction. Walking through to Pope's office, she was aware of a familiar ache in her belly, and an unexpected dampness further down. Breathing deeply, she pushed open Will's office, and dropped the folder in his IN box. She leaned against the wall, relishing the coolness through her jacket, her skin hot with frustrated desire. What on earth had THAT been? It was fairly common knowledge that Sharon preferred the company of other women, but Brenda was married! To a man! So what had that been? Sharon shook her head, and started towards the elevators that would lead her to her car.

Brenda sat in her chair, staring blankly at the papers in front of her. What had she been thinking? That woman! For heaven's sake. She was married! Still, she couldn't stop thinking about the silk of Sharon's wrist beneath her lips, the slip of Sharon's palm beneath her questing fingers. She breathed in through her nose, savoring the receding fragrance the Captain left behind, a blend now, of citrus and something else, musky and intoxicating. Brenda traced her lips with the end of her pen, before tossing it back on her desk. She yanked open her desk drawer, grabbing the first bit of chocolate she could get her hands on, and tore into it. She was clearly overly emotional. This case had been trying from the start, and it was odd, but not unheard of, for emotions to get confused under stress. That's all this was. She'd gotten her wires crossed, and her general annoyance at that woman had expressed itself as desire. She'd be fine. Glancing at her watch, she cursed under her breath. She was going to be late for dinner again. Shoving her drawer shut, she left her report on her desk, planning to go over it once more in the morning, with a cooler, clearer head. She grabbed her purse, and stalked towards the elevators, ignoring her traitorous body and it's crossed wires.

Rounding the corner, she stopped short. The Captain stood waiting for an elevator, her back to the Chief. Brenda thought quickly. If she quietly backed up, she could make it to the elevators on the other end of the Department, and then she'd just have to cross back over to this side once she was in the parking area. Avoiding the Captain should be easy enough, as long as she stayed quiet. To that end, she braced one hand on the wall, and bent to remove her pumps. She'd just hooked a thumb under the first heel, when she heard a voice rich as honey say her name.

"Chief Johnson. Brenda. I think we can share the lift. We can't avoid each other forever, so we should probably chalk it up to job stress, and move on, wouldn't you say?" Sharon spoke without turning to face the Chief.

Brenda straightened up, and stepped towards the elevator. She told herself she didn't notice the thrill that ran through her at the idea of being in an elevator with that woman.

"Cap'n. That's very forgiving of you. I do apologize for-" Brenda wasn't sure what to call it.

"It's fine, Chief. Let's not dwell." Sharon squared her shoulders, and tossed her hair back.

Brenda inhaled as the shifting air sent the sharp citrus scent of that woman wafting past her nose.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she clenched her hands into fists. The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. The Captain stepped aside, and gestured for Brenda to go first.

"After you, Chief." She said, allowing her gaze to drop, taking in the sway of those hips, the length of those legs. She stepped into the elevator behind the Chief, and turned, automatically, to punch the button for the parking level. Brenda had been reaching as well, and their hands brushed again. Sharon heard Brenda's quiet gasp, and she turned, slightly. The Chief was leaning against the wall of the elevator, looking at her hand as though it were on fire. Sharon rather thought she understood, since the jolt had run from the side of her hand, straight to her core, pooling liquidly there. She was so close. The distance between them wasn't more than a step or two. Sharon's eyes swept up to Brenda's face. Brenda was still staring down at her hand, her lips parted, her face slightly flushed as she struggled for control. Sharon stepped forward, well into the Chief's personal space, and reached out, reached for Brenda's hand. A moment of stillness, and then Brenda held her hand out, allowing the Captain to cradle it in her own. Sharon traced the back of Brenda's hands, feeling the tendons flex, exploring the bumps of knuckles, the slender length of her fingers. She pulled Brenda's hand to her lips, kissing it chastely. Brenda's breath hitched, she pulled her hand free, and cupped Sharon's cheek. The Captain leaned into her subtle embrace, and thought again about her precarious balance on this knife's edge. Brenda slowly dragged her thumb across Sharon's lower lip, wondering what it would be like to kiss her, for real. Sharon parted her lips, and Brenda dipped her thumb to trace along the soft skin inside. Sharon made a small noise in the back of her throat as the sensations spilled through her. Brenda stroked her jaw, letting the backs of her fingers trail gently down Sharon's elegant throat. Brenda pulled her hand away when the elevator shuddered to a halt, and Sharon stepped quickly back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Reaching out, she held onto the elevator door, and looked back at Brenda.

"I hope you have a good evening, Chief. Good night." Sharon was pleased that her voice sounded mostly normal, under these totally abnormal circumstances. If anything, her arousal made her voice slightly lower, vaguely husky in tone. She stepped out of the elevator, moving rapidly to her car, leaving a very confused Chief behind. Brenda let the elevator doors slide shut without leaving. She leaned hard against the wall, breathing deeply. Once she was reasonably sure she wouldn't run into the Captain again, Brenda punched the button to open the doors, and exited the elevator. She fumbled in her purse for her keys, and unlocked her car, sliding behind the wheel. She leaned her head back on the head rest, and then keyed the car on. Pulling out of her parking space, she grabbed her cell phone to call Fritz, and let him know she'd be late, but that she was in the car. Hanging up, she clicked on the stereo, and hit the 'scan' button, hoping to be distracted by talk radio. Instead, a rolling guitar rhythm filled the car, and a whiskey-voiced woman crooned

_Your mouth waters  
stretched out on my bed  
your fingers are trembling  
and your heart is heavy and red  
and your head is bent back  
and your back is arched  
and my hand is under there  
holding you up_

I'll hold you up  
and drive you all night  
I'll hold you up  
and drive you baby 'till you feel the daylight  
I'll hold you up  
and drive you all night  
I'll hold you up  
and drive you 'till you feel the daylight  
oh and this has just begun

Brenda felt her cheeks go warm at the implications of the song, but found herself too engrossed to change the station. She stifled a snort as she realized that, if she'd heard this song yesterday, she probably would've assumed the singer was singing about a man, but now, she could only envision the Capitan beneath her, hair wild with abandon as Brenda discovered all the places on her body that lived under those austere suits.


	2. Chapter 2

Later that evening, Sharon sat in her living room, nursing a glass of wine, and watching an old movie. She tried to put the events of the day out of her mind, reminding herself of the key cons against dwelling. Brenda was her superior officer. Brenda was straight. Brenda was married. And even if there was a modicum of physical attraction between them, surely it was overshadowed by the general animosity. Brenda had made it clear from day 1 that she was no fan of Sharon's. So what had possessed her to offer comfort earlier? A literal shoulder to cry on, no less? Sharon tried to forget the warmth of the Chief's arms, the reassuring sweep of her hands, because remembering that, inevitably led to remembering that hand cupping her cheek, tenderly, gently. Remembering that meant remembering the heat of Brenda's thumb across her lip, the taste of chocolate lingering faintly. Sharon groaned as a wave of heat pulsed through her body. Clearly, one glass of wine wasn't going to cut it tonight. She pushed herself off of the sofa, and padded barefoot into the kitchen to top off.

Brenda sat across the table from Fritz, absently pushing the Happy Family around her plate. She'd caught him up on the case, and all that had happened, with three glaring exceptions. It was the first time she could remember keeping something from Fritz on purpose, outside of staving off FBI interference in a case. Fritz, for his part, was being unusually silent and moody. Brenda knew she should ask, she should care enough to pry, and dig for the root of his melancholy demeanor, but her mind wouldn't stay focused, kept flashing back to the sensation of the captain's smooth, wet lip beneath her thumb, that enticing slope of her neck. Brenda was sure that if the elevator hadn't stopped, her hand would've swept right on down, over those exquisite collarbones, the perfect swell of her breast. She shook herself out of that reverie, and looked across the table at Fritz. He was staring morosely down at his plate, his hands in his lap. Brenda grabbed two fortune cookies from the bag, and held them out to him, encouraging him to pick his. He took the proffered cookie, and they both tore into the wrappers, breaking open the cookies to find the slips of paper within.

"Mine is stupid," Fritz said, crunching into one half of the twisted shell, "it says 'he who hesitates is lost.'. That's not a fortune, it's a cliche." He crumpled the paper and tossed it to the table. Brenda held hers with trembling fingers, her mouth suddenly dry, too dry to speak. She reached for her wine, taking a long sip, before chuckling.

"Mine is stupid too, Fritzi. We make our own destinies, anyway, right?" Brenda still clutched the unspoken fortune in her fist.

"What does it say, Bren?" Fritz asked, noticing how pale her face had become.

"Oh, it's just rubbish. It says 'the thin line between hate and love is erased with desire'. What does that even mean?". Brenda sounded slightly hysterical to her own ears, and took another sip of wine.

"Heh. No idea. Listen, I'm going to bed. You finish the Happy Family, just, please clean up after yourself when you're done. I'm tired of finding your dinner plates on the table at breakfast, you know?" Fritz stacked his plate in the sink, and left the kitchen. Brenda was actually fairly relieved that he hadn't paused to kiss her, and almost buckled under the guilt that that relief brought. She pushed her chair back from the table, and grabbed her plate and wine glass. She dumped the plate in the sink, and refilled her glass, then put the leftover food into the fridge. She wandered into the living room, unsure of her next step. By all rights, she should be exhausted, but she was too keyed up to sleep. The events of the day had left her tightly strung, a piano wire of nerves. Sitting down in front of her laptop, she switched it on, and waited impatiently as it booted, drumming her fingers on the bell of her wine glass. She surfed to a search engine, and typed in the lyrics from the song she'd heard earlier, and discovered the title was Drive, and it was by a woman named Melissa Ferrick. Just for fun, Brenda searched for more information on the singer, and discovered that she was, indeed, a lesbian, confirming Brenda's initial interpretation of the song. She found a site offering the song for 99 cents, and decided she'd buy it, not for any sentimental value, but because the skillful guitar and husky voice of the woman made a pleasing combo, and Brenda was a sucker for good music. She transferred the track to her MP3 player, and logged off, closing her laptop lid, and staring out of the living room window. She popped the earbuds of her MP3 player into her ears, and skipped ahead til the track she'd just added began to play. She stretched out on the couch, propping her head up on a pillow, and closed her eyes, listening to the beginning strains of the song. Her mind skipped back over the day, cataloguing all the foolish encounters she'd had with the Captain. Dangerous, to focus too much on her elegant fingers. Dangerous, to focus too much on that lower lip, the breath ghosting over her thumb, almost in a pant, quickening with want. She was married. It didn't matter. It couldn't matter, how smooth that throat was. Brenda shifted on the couch, ignoring the flare of desire she felt. She just needed to go to sleep. Things would all make sense again tomorrow. She tossed the music player aside, and made her way to the bed, crawling in beside Fritz, stony and silent even in sleep.

The Captain was also laying in bed, though not asleep. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw the Chief, that smoldering gaze, those lips parted, her breathing quick and uneven, her cheeks flushed. The look in her eyes, as she trailed her hand along Sharon's neck, ever downward. She was fairly sure that Brenda had stopped short of her ultimate destination, thanks to the sudden stop of the elevator. She wondered what those gentle fingers would've felt like cresting the slope of her breast, the hardened peak of her nipple. Sharon let out a small groan, and rolled on her side, determined not to follow that thought all the way through. She could not let the Chief become a part of her fantasy material. It was entirely inappropriate. And clearly, if today had been any indication, the woman had more intensity than she'd given her credit for, and Sharon wasn't sure if her imagination would do the encounter justice. She squashed the following thought immediately, realizing that to actually HAVE the encounter would mean both of their jobs, if they were found out. Not to mention Brenda's marriage, not that that was any of Sharon's concern, mind, but she liked to think she had some control over her morals. Still, she admitted deep down in the smallest part of herself, that she wouldn't say no. She wouldn't start anything, because that would be reprehensible, but if the Chief approached her? She most definitely wouldn't turn her away. Sharon resolved to put distance between them, until her brain came back to it's senses. Hopefully Major Crimes could keep itself out of any OIS or Force related cases, and they wouldn't even need to cross paths. Nodding into the dark, Sharon finally relaxed enough to let sleep claim her.


	3. Chapter 3

The following weeks passed without further event. Brenda went through the motions, solving 4 cases and assisting Robbery/Homicide with 2 more. She was focused. She was a machine. She'd almost entirely put the incident with the Captain out of her head, except for the early morning hours, when the house was still, and Fritz was deeply asleep, and then, only then, did she drift back, to the curves of the dark haired woman pressed against her, those lips, those hands. Brenda treated those memories like bits of candy, stashed away in a locked drawer until she was alone, then she'd devour them hungrily, licking their residue from her fingertips, wishing there was more. Her phone rang, startling her. Checking the caller ID, she saw that it was Chief Pope, and she answered quickly. He asked her to come down to the station, saying he needed her help with a delicate case. Brenda said she'd be right there, and moved to dress and leave.

Captain Sharon Raydor sat at her desk, breathing through her nose, as she pondered her options. Everyone knew that Brenda was loyal to Will Pope. Loyal to a fault. Never the less, the women on the force deserved a Chief they could look up to, and Brenda certainly fit that bill. Still, Sharon tried to picture asking her to consider applying, and every scenario ended badly. Best case, Brenda would agree, but then flake on the paperwork. Sharon could solve that, by completing the application for her. Okay. Worst case? Sharon didn't really want to imagine that. Squaring her shoulders, she grabbed her papers, tucking them into a manila folder, and resisted the urge to check her appearance in the mirror in the bathroom on the way up to Major Crimes. It wasn't a social call, after all, and it had been weeks since that day, and the Chief hadn't come to her, so Sharon filed it away, moved on, and did her job to the best of her ability. Today wasn't going to change that, she told herself as she stepped into the elevator. She wouldn't think of Brenda—no of the Chief, in that way today. She pushed away the memories that threatened to overtake her, pretending that this was a different elevator, not the same one from weeks before. As the doors slid open, she stepped out into the hub of Major Crimes, and nodded at the team working there. She made her way to Brenda's office, and knocked on the door. Brenda looked up, and her mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Cap'n! What a surprise. Come on in, what can I do for you?" Brenda tried to keep her voice even, tried to keep her features schooled into indifference, even as her pulse hit doubletime, and her palms went damp.

The dark haired woman stepped into her office, and sat down. She cleared her throat, as she thought about the best way to begin.

"Chief Johnson, I have a few questions to ask, if you've got a moment?" Sharon kept her gaze steady on Brenda's face, not allowing herself a glimpse of those treacherous hands.

"Uh. Certainly. I have to meet with Chief Pope in about 10 minutes, but I'm all yours til then." Brenda blushed as she realized the double implications those words held. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, and pressing her thighs together tightly, ignoring the subtle ache that had flared upon seeing the Captain again.

"Excellent. I'll move quickly, then. You've been with the LAPD for...?" Sharon clicked the point of her pen into the writing position, and held her hand ready to take notes.

"A little over 5 years now."

"Really? Hmm. Seems longer." Sharon replied. "Before that, you were with the Atlanta PD, and before that, the Washington DC police force, is that right?"

"Yes, it is." Brenda drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair, trying to suss out where, exactly, the Captain was going with this line of questions.

"You know, Captain, I could probably be much more helpful with your Internal Affairs investigation, if I knew what it was about."

Sharon smiled a genuine smile then, and replied, "You'd be surprised how many people think that, Chief. But the best way to help me, really, is to answer my questions as thoroughly as possible. Now, you first met Chief Pope in Washington DC, is that correct?"

"Yes it is." Brenda replied. "Is he the subject of this-"

Sharon cut her off. "Can you tell me how and when the two of you first met?"

Brenda tried not to let her aggravation show. Obviously, a background check into Chief applicants was essential, but Brenda wasn't so sure that this particular interview was, or that the head of FID was the only one who could conduct it. The aggravation felt good, though. It was nice to look at the Captain, and feel something other than fierce desire flooding through her.

"In March of 1997, I became the Liaison between the Department of State and the Police Department where Chief Pope was Deputy Chief."

"And how was your working relationship with Chief Pope?" Sharon cringed again, knowing this was a dangerous road to travel.

"Excellent, in fact we got along so well that he convinced me to leave my job, and join the DC police department. It gave me an excellent opportunity to observe his leadership skills close up."

"Because the two of you were having an affair?" The Captain hadn't meant for that to come out as sharply as it had.

Brenda stared at the Captain for a long moment before answering.

"When you work the hours we do, under pressured situations, it's not unusual to find yourself involved with a coworker." Brenda kept her voice low and even, but she fisted her hands beneath her desk, trying to will some composure out of the tension.

"Even a married one?" Sharon had the good grace to blush at this.

"Well. He didn't tell me he was married when we first started seeing each other. But that doesn't make him a bad candidate for Chief." Brenda resisted the temptation to make reference to their brief lapse in judgment in the weeks before. No, she could keep her cool.

"Cap'n Raydor, I am finding these questions to be extremely personal." She straightened her glasses, and tried not to glare at the Captain.

"I assure you, if it was personal, I wouldn't be here." Sharon interjected weakly, with a tired smile.

"The intimate part of my relationship with Chief Pope ended in DC. And, as a matter of record, was disclosed by Chief Pope before I was even hired." Brenda brushed her hair out of her face, and spun slightly in her chair.

"But if Chief Pope created Major Crimes specifically to bring you to Los Angeles-"

Brenda cut her off. "Major Crimes was not—it was just another name, for a division that had already been in operation for a year before I arrived. It was not created specifically for me. It was designed to protect the department from cases like OJ and Rampart. And to Chief Pope's credit, the division is functioning exactly as it was designed to, as you can see for yourself.

"Thank you! I'd love to see for myself! You know, prior to this, you and I have pursued parallel investigations. For me to really get a good look at how Major Crimes functions, I do need to accompany you on your next investigation. Fantastic!" Sharon knew she was stretching, but she also knew that Brenda wouldn't do anything to jeopardize Pope's application for Chief, and so she'd agree to this, however unhappily. She tried not to feel the pang of disappointment at that last thought. Standing, she clicked her pen closed, and smiled down at Brenda.

"I'll be in touch. Let me know when your team goes out again, m'kay?" She showed herself out.

Brenda took her glasses off, and pinched the bridge of her nose. What on earth was she going to do now? She couldn't afford any more slip-ups. Not with Will applying for Chief. So she'd just have to keep it cool, distant, and professional. She counted on the thought of Will keeping her more faithful than the thought of Fritz had. Faithful. That WOMAN! Brenda couldn't believe the questions she'd asked. Was she fishing for personal information on her, or Pope? What had that look been, when she asked her about having an affair with a married man. Her phone buzzed, and she heard Will's voice inviting her to his office. She stood to go meet with him.

After her briefing with Pope, Brenda's headache was even worse. Not only was this not a Major Crime, but now she was going to have the Captain in close proximity to her until they solved this non-case. And how Will expected her to get any closure in a case where a crime hadn't even been committed yet was beyond her. Brenda flopped into her chair and put her head in her hands. She pulled open her candy drawer, which was down to the dregs. She found a heath bar, leaving her only with Twizzlers. She'd have to go shopping later. Twizzlers never quite did it for her, like chocolate. Polishing off the candy bar, she grabbed her purse, and went out to brief the team. She got all the way to the door, before she remembered she had to notify the Captain. Groaning, she stalked back to the phone, and dialed Sharon's extension. She scowled at the goosebumps that leapt from her skin when the woman's voice came on the line.

"FID, Captain Raydor speaking." Sharon made sure her voice was low, and sexy, having seen the Chief's extension pop up on the interoffice caller ID. Then she cursed herself for entertaining the thought that it mattered what she sounded like on the phone.

"Cap'n Raydor. We're conducting a preliminary investigation. You're invited to the briefing, but if this is a bad time, you can catch up later, or follow on the next case." Brenda knew better than to hope for a break like that.

"I'll be right up, Chief. See you soon." Sharon hung up the phone, a crooked smile on her lips. In a moment of rare self-honesty, she admitted that she was looking forward to spending so much time with the Chief. She admitted that she'd been spending too much time thinking about their past encounter, and it was maddening. Sharon wondered if emotions would run as high on this case, as they had on the Ally Moore case. She found herself rather hoping so. Shaking her head, she decided to take the stairs up to Major Crimes, to try and burn off some of that nervous energy.


	4. Chapter 4

Brenda stalked into the central room in Major Crimes, still seething at the unexpected, and wholly unnecessary intrusion of that woman into her investigation. She stood by the white board, and gazed across the faces of her team. They stared back expectantly, and Brenda rolled her eyes.

"We have to wait, Gentlemen, for Captain Raydor to grace us with her presence. She'll be accompanying us on this investigation. I don't want to have to go over it twice." Brenda explained crossly.

Sharon paused outside the squad room, smoothing her skirt nervously. She glanced down at herself, and impulsively unbuttoned one more button on her lavender silk shirt. Satisfied with the hint of reckless abandon in that movement, she pushed open the door, and slid into a seat across from Flynn.

"Thank you for joining us, Captain." Brenda clipped her words, still furious about the interview. "Now, this is being treated as a critical missing. We don't know much just yet, but we're going to go talk to the Disken family. They've reported their nanny missing. Sgt. Gabriel, how bout you ride with Flynn and Provenza today. We'll meet at their house."

"Sounds good, Chief!" Provenza shoved back from his desk, and Flynn stood as well. Gabriel looked pained, but pushed to his feet, and followed the men out of the squad room.

"The address is in the file I gave you, Cap'n. I'll see you there." Brenda turned on her heel and headed for the elevators, not waiting to see if the dark haired woman was following.

"Uh, Chief Johnson. I think, for the purposes of this inquiry, it would be best if I rode along with you." Sharon stated evenly.

"Oh for heaven's sake. Fine. Come on." Brenda ignored the coil of excitement that unspooled in her belly at the idea of being on that elevator with the Captain again.

The doors slid open, and the carriage was empty. Brenda stepped aside, and gestured to Sharon. "After you, this time?" A small smile quirked her lips for a fraction of a second, so quick that if Sharon hadn't been looking for it, she would've missed it.

"Indeed, Chief." She stepped into the elevator, putting a little more swing in her hips than usual.

Brenda followed, and hesitated. She glanced at the Captain out of the corner of her eye, and saw a similar hesitation, evident in the tension of her hands, the set of her shoulders.

"Oh for heaven's SAKE!" Brenda punched the button for the garage level. They rode in silence for a moment, awkward, and unsure. Brenda continued to watch the captain out of the corner of her eye. The dark haired woman was wearing a skirt, grey pin-striped, and falling just above the knee. She had on a pale purple button down shirt, and Brenda caught her breath at the realization that Sharon was more unbuttoned than she'd ever seen before. A matching grey pinstriped jacket and grey pumps finished the outfit. Brenda licked her lips, and closed her eyes against the thought of taking the woman's hand, just to see if those incredible sparks were still present. She rather thought they were, considering the Captain's faintly ragged breathing. Sharon, for her part, was studiously ignoring Brenda, though she felt the burn of the Chief's gaze, inconspicuous as it was. She tossed her hair back, the thick mane falling in waves over her shoulders. She heard Brenda's slow intake of breath, and wondered at that. The elevator dinged, and screeched to a halt, depositing them on the garage level.

"My car is over here, Cap'n." Brenda's voice was lower than usual, her drawl more pronounced. She'd been fine, all the way up until Sharon had flipped her hair, sending that luscious citrusy scent her way. It enveloped Brenda, occupying her senses, clouding her judgment. This was going to be a harder case than she'd thought. She'd have to concentrate twice as hard, to stay focused. She pressed the unlock button on the remote to her car, then gave in to the urge, and opened the Captain's door for her. Sharon looked faintly surprised, but covered well.

"Thank you Chief." She said simply, gracefully lowering herself into the bucket seat. Brenda let her gaze linger as the Captain folded her long legs, god those legs, into the car, and then firmly closed the door. She took several cleansing breaths as she made her way around to the driver's side, clearing her head of those thoughts, and that tangy, decadent scent. She dropped into the seat, and keyed the ignition. To her horror, she'd had left her MP3 player plugged in to the adapter, and that song, that beautiful, terrible song, filled the car.

_"If you want this  
if you want this  
if you want this, you're gonna have to ask  
nicely please  
yeah if you want this  
you're gonna have to ask me  
you're gonna have to ask me"_

Brenda clenched her hands around the steering wheel. She hoped that the vocals would be low enough that the Captain wouldn't make them out, but she didn't want to call attention to it by lowering the volume, or turning the system off. She felt a blush steal over her face, as she remembered the first night she'd heard the song.

Sharon paused in the process of buckling her seatbelt when the song came on. She quirked an eyebrow, and chuckled inwardly. So. The Chief listened to Melissa Ferrick. That was unexpected, and surprising. Perhaps the woman wasn't as straight as she let on. She saw Brenda stiffen as the music swelled, and saw the blush creep across those cheekbones. She blurted the first thing that popped into her head, an attempt to diffuse the palpable tension.

"How exactly, Chief, is a missing nanny a Major Crime?" Sharon's voice cut through Brenda's thoughts, but it took the Chief a moment to register the question.

"Well. We caught the case, that's how. We'll find out when we get to the Disken's." Brenda tersely replied, pulling the car to a stop at a red light.

Sharon cleared her throat, hating the resurgence of the animosity between them. Absently, she ran her hands over her skirt, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles. Brenda watched out of the corner of her eye, noting that, once again, the Captain had bare legs beneath her skirt. Sharon shifted slightly, and Brenda's breath hitched as the skirt rode up a bit on the Captain's thighs. Brenda wondered what that skin might feel like, slipping beneath her hands. She wondered what she would feel, if reached across, caressed that knee, slid her hand to the now exposed thigh, venturing past the hem of the skirt, claiming all that hidden skin with her fingertips. Sharon cleared her throat again, startling Brenda out of her reverie.

"Chief. Green light." Sharon's voice was soft, non-confrontational. She'd watched Brenda's eyes follow the line of her leg, saw the flush bloom in her cheeks. Sharon was pretty sure she could guess the Chief's line of thought. She was pretty sure it was similar to her own.

"Right. Thank you." Brenda pulled through the intersection, cursing herself for slipping. It was that woman. And that scent. And this song.

"_Whatever you want  
I'll give it to you  
I'll give it to you slowly  
'till you're just begging me to hold you  
ya whatever you want  
whatever you want  
but you're gonna have to ask me"_

Brenda sighed, and flexed her hands around the steering wheel. Her knuckles ached, from gripping it so tightly. She was grateful that they had arrived at the Disken's. She was pretty sure she would've lost control if she'd had to stay in that untenable situation for much longer. Putting the car into park, she automatically reached into the passenger side seat well for her over-sized tote. Her hand grazed the Captain's bare leg, and to her surprise, the Captain made a small noise in the back of her throat. Brenda glanced up, and saw Sharon gripping the door handle, her eyes closed, her head back, her lower lip caught alluringly between her teeth. Not really sure what she was doing, but moving with purpose none the less, she ran her hand around the Captain's leg, cupping the toned calf, then trailing her fingers to the slender ankle. She was clearly freshly shaved, her skin was so smooth, so supple. Brenda thought about the mechanics of running her hand up the length of that leg, letting her fingers devour the milky skin of Sharon's thigh, but there was no way to do that, from this vantage point, without sitting up and shifting position. And if she sat up, she was going to have to stop. So she continued to brush her fingers along the taut muscles of the woman's calf, the small bones of her ankles, and she heard Sharon whimper. Brenda snatched her hand away as if she'd been burned, and grabbed the handles of her tote. Sitting up, she glanced over at the Captain, and Sharon met her gaze full on, her green eyes dark with desire.

"The rest of the team is waiting, Cap'n. We should go." Brenda tried to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"Indeed, Chief. We should. Go." Sharon's voice dripped like honey over Brenda's ears, and the Chief closed her eyes, licking her lips. She opened them, and saw Sharon staring at her mouth, her own lips parted. Brenda wanted to slide across the seat, and press her lips against the Captain's, wanted to feel the sudden shocking contact of tongues and teeth, the delicate battle for dominance over the kiss. Brenda bit her lower lip, and tore here eyes away. She opened the door, and stepped out into the unforgiving sunlight, welcoming the excuse to take a few deep breaths, to close her eyes against the glare and clear her head. She heard Sharon slam the door, heard those purposeful steps clicking away towards the house, and she leaned against the side of the car, giving the Captain a head start.

Sharon was thankful that she'd had a moment to compose herself. She wasn't sure she'd be steady on her legs after that...whatever that was. Her body was positively thrumming with desire, and she couldn't quite catch her breath. The Chief's intensity had been overwhelming. That she'd been undone by the simple sensation of a hand on her leg, touching her with such reverence, such single-mindedness, was foolish. Sharon knew, especially considering her reason for tagging along today, that this dance couldn't continue. But she couldn't bring herself to stop imagining...to stop hoping. She walked up the steps to the large home of the Disken's, listening for the sound of Brenda's shoes on the pavement behind her. She reached the porch, and turned around to see where the Chief had gone. Brenda was leaning against the car, her face in her hands. Sharon paused, wondering if she should go to her, when the blond woman shook her head, brushed her hair back from her face, and squared her shoulders. She stalked towards the house, and Sharon quickly spun on her heel, and approached Sgt. Gabriel.

Once inside the home, the team sat down with the family. Mr. Disken seemed angry, though his distraught wife admitted to calling the mayor. Sharon understood now, why Major Crimes was here. It was a favor. It all came back to politics. She cast her gaze around the room, taking in the details, and reminded herself that she was an observer in these proceedings. She managed to sit quietly until she heard the Chief ask a question that could be trouble.

"Chief Johnson. We're not permitted to inquire about the citizenship of the people we're investigating." Sharon reminded her gently.

Brenda turned, and glared at her across Sgt. Gabriel.

"I didn't ask about her citizenship. I asked if she spoke English. If she doesn't, then we need Detective Sanchez." The Chief replied tersely.

"Oh, she speaks English. And she's a citizen. We pay all the appropriate taxes, as well. Don't wanna embarrass the Mayor, you know." Mr. Disken interjected with a chuckle.

Brenda conducted the rest of the interview without further event, and they thanked the family, and left to go to the Nanny's home. She thought briefly that she should ask Sgt. Gabriel to ride along with her, so that she wouldn't be alone with Sharon again, but decided that would look peculiar. She'd just have to make sure there was no physical contact. She was able to hold her feelings in check, mostly, until she touched the Captain. It was like the sensation of her skin short circuited Brenda's brain, leaving only the part that ached for that woman. All other reasonable thought was lost in the silken feel of skin on skin. Brenda decided to just get in the car, and wait for the Captain. She dropped her head back on the headrest, and sighed, Sharon was clearly asking the other members of the team about Pope, but Brenda was glad for the chance to gather her thoughts, and steel her defenses. She thought about unplugging the MP3 player, and tuning to talk radio, but she decided against it. No reason to call attention to it, and after all, it was just music.

Sharon pulled open the passenger door, and sank elegantly into the seat. She noticed that Brenda had put her over-sized tote in the back seat, and she smiled a bit, even as she felt a pang of disappointment. Brenda turned the car on, and pulled out into traffic as soon as she heard the Captain's seat belt click. That sweet citrus musk blend swirled in the car, and Brenda tried breathing quietly through her mouth, attempting to find an escape from that intoxicating perfume. The music played quietly in the background, and she hummed along without thinking.

_In the kitchen  
in the shower  
and in the back seat of my car  
I'll hold you up  
in your office  
preferably during business hours  
'cause you know how I like it when there's people around  
and I know how you like it  
yeah I know how you like it  
I know how you like it when I tease you for hours_

Sharon wondered if Brenda was aware that she was humming along. She wondered if the Chief was really aware of the implications of this song, at this juncture. She wondered if it was a signal. An invitation. Sharon pushed the thought out of her mind. They were on their way to check on a missing person. Whatever else, Brenda was a consummate professional, and wouldn't jeopardize the investigation, or the safety of the young woman in question. Even knowing that, Sharon couldn't help shifting in her seat, angling her body slightly towards the Chief. She crossed her ankles, knowing as she did so, that her skirt would shift, exposing more of her thigh than before. She tried to tell herself it was because she wasn't used to the seats in this car, but deep down she wanted to feel the burn of Brenda's gaze. The possibility of those hands on her skin again, breaching her defenses, Sharon was practically breathless at the thought. It was odd, this dynamic. In past relationships, Sharon was typically leading the charge, in a more forward and obvious fashion. This tactic was new to her, creating these small situations, these little moments in which she could entice the Chief without making an actual move on her. She wasn't passive, exactly, in this, but it was still a far cry from her usual actions. Of course, her usual actions didn't typically involve a married, straight, superior officer with an attitude problem, so, it was good to be flexible.

Brenda stopped humming abruptly when she sensed Sharon shifting in her seat. She kept her eyes forward on the road, but her peripheral vision was determined to betray her, giving her a glimpse of pale skin beneath grey, and Brenda knew intuitively, without turning her head, that there would be an expanse of uncharted thigh exposed. She gripped the steering wheel ever tighter, wondering if Sharon was as acutely aware of each of her small movements, or if this was an unfortunate (or fortunate, depending) side effect of Brenda's exemplary skills of observation. She saw Sharon lift a hand, and her nose was filled with that damnable scent again. Brenda surmised that Sharon had tossed her hair again. She thought that maybe riding in strained silence was contributing to her hyper awareness of the woman and her motions, so she cast about for something to chat about.

Sharon felt the change in Brenda's demeanor even before she spoke.

"Cap'n, when we get to the Gomez residence, let me and the team go in ahead of you, okay? Just until we clear the scene." Brenda blinked, realizing that her statement could sound like professional distance, or personal concern. She blinked again, realizing she wasn't sure of her own motivation.

"Thank you, Chief. I do have my own vest, and I knew what I was getting into when I got into this car." Sharon's voice dropped at the end of that statement, husky and full of promise.

Brenda narrowed her eyes, not hearing the agreement to stay behind the team.

"For heaven's sake Cap'n. Just stay behind the team. I have enough to worry about, without worrying about you getting shot. Just do as I say!" Brenda huffed, shoving a strand of hair back from her forehead, and pulling into a parking space a few doors down from the Gomez place.

"Yes, Chief." Sharon's voice fell like velvet around Brenda, and she found herself wondering if that's what the dark haired woman sounded like in bed, that low, ragged voice. Brenda wondered what her name would sound like, falling from those lips.

She jerked the car door open, and quickly exited, walking over to the rest of the team. The Captain followed behind at a reasonable distance, Brenda noted with some relief. She knocked on the door, several times, to no avail. Deciding that there was no time to waste, she pulled out her small lock-picking kit.

"You're breaking into the home of a citizen?" Sharon asked quietly.

"No, Cap'n. I am doing a public safety check. I have reason to believe that the occupant of this premises is in danger, and I am doing my civic duty to protect and serve." Brenda snapped back, hearing the tumblers of the lock click into the open position. She stood to the side, and gestured Detective Sanchez forward. He swung the door open, and entered. The team quickly cleared the house, and then Brenda heard the sound that would turn the rest of her day upside down. Sanchez calling to her from the back room.

"Chief, you should see this."

Brenda followed the sound of his voice, pushing through the door, and cursing. There, covered in blood on the floor, was an obviously dead Adrianna Gomez. Brenda covered her nose with her sleeve, and turned to Flynn, asking him to call for the crime scene team. She shooed the rest of the team, and the Captain, out of the room, and back out onto the sidewalk, so they could wait for the Scene team to get there and clear it. Brenda walked down the steps, and leaned against the railing. This was the part of her job she hated. The senseless devastations, these young lives, thrown away, always over something so stupid, so pointless. Greed. Deceit. Hatred. Anger. It was always so stupid! Brenda scuffed her shoe along the pavement, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Sharon stood on the landing, watching the Chief, feeling the grief rolling off of the woman in waves. She walked down the steps, and leaned against the railing next to her, letting their shoulders touch. She didn't say anything, or make any other gesture. She just lent the blond woman her warmth for a moment, her strength. Brenda saw the gift for what it was, and pressed her arm into the Captain's in thanks. They stood there for a long moment, shoulders touching, each lost in their own thoughts, but grateful for the presence of the other.


	5. Chapter 5

Brenda went home that night, and sat across from a distracted Fritz, trying to make sense of the days events. She knew what had happened in the car. That overwhelming spark of desire had driven her hands over the Captain's leg. She wasn't used to the sensation of this lust yet, but at least it made sense, on some level. Physically, some people were more compatible, and sometimes chemistry just blossomed without any help, and sometimes, in spite of constant antagonism. But those moments against the railing? Brenda had no name for that. In all her years of Police work, discovering a deceased victim never got any easier. Brenda always felt the loss personally. She like to think that was what made her so good at her job. People fed her platitudes, and suggested that she should thicken her skin, and toughen up before the job ate her alive, but Brenda always needed that few minutes after a discovery, to get her mind right. Nobody had ever, ever understood that. Certainly, nobody had been able to offer such wordless support. Brenda rubbed her hand along her arm, tracing the lingering outline of the Captain's warmth. It still felt warm, even hours later. It seemed to glow beneath her sleeve. Not Will. Not Fritz. Sharon. Brenda couldn't think anymore. Climbing the stairs to her bed, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, her hand still on her arm.

Sharon sat alone at her table. She'd been scheduled to go out with a friend, a woman who made it clear that she felt more than a platonic affection for her, but she'd canceled on the way home from the office. She couldn't stop thinking about the Chief. She tried to focus on the carnal aspects of the day, the burning gaze, those scorching hands touching her in ways she hadn't been touched in far too long. But she kept coming back to the hunched figure of the blond woman, leaning against the railing after they found the nanny. Brenda had seemed broken, then, as though she'd known the victim. Of course Sharon knew that wasn't the case, but seeing the Chief with such raw grief on her face had changed the Captain's approach. For the rest of the day, she kept it strictly professional, trying to be as helpful as she could. She still felt Brenda's eyes on her, still felt the air change when the Chief entered a room. But she wanted to leave her with the memory of the railing. She wanted to be left with the memory of the railing. Somehow, it seemed more real than any of their privately stolen moments. Sharon was only sure of one thing. Her tenuous balance on the knife's edge was seriously compromised. She stood, and put her wine glass into the sink, padding up the stairs to her bed. She too, fell into a deep sleep, but her dreams were filled with the Chief, beautiful and haunted.

The following day, Brenda hurried into the Division, running slightly behind. She pulled up short when she saw the Captain sitting in the same chair as the day before. Regaining her composure, she nodded, tossed her trench coat on the table, and asked Sgt. Gabriel for an update.

"I ran her, Chief, and she's clear. No collars, no records, not even a ticket." Sgt. Gabriel replied, spinning his chair to face her.

"Okay. Detective Sanchez, what's the gang activity like in the area?" Brenda faced the detective, but took in the Captain's elegant pantsuit,from the corner of her eye.

"None, boss. Hardworking women. This isn't gangland chief." Detective Sanchez looked as rough around the edges as Brenda felt. She knew he was taking the case hard.

"Plus, this wasn't a home invasion, or robbery. Or if it was, Adrianna must've let her attacker in, because there's no sign of forced entry." Gabriel piped up.

"Okay. You guys see what you can find out about her personal life. I'm going to go see what Adrianna has to tell me." Brenda turned to head for the morgue. She heard the unmistakable clack of heels following her. She slowed her pace, allowing Sharon to catch up. They walked to the bank of elevators in silence, Brenda pressing the button to call the lift. As the doors slid open, Sharon stepped aside, gesturing Brenda in, smiling a bit.

"I believe it's your turn to go first, Chief." She said, chuckling at the blush that flooded Brenda's face.

Brenda stepped into the elevator, holding the door so the Captain could follow. She waited until she saw the Sharon reach for the button, and press it, and then she raised her own hand, catching the dark haired woman's fingers in hers. Sharon's eyes widened a bit, and her breath caught. She didn't pull away, however.

"Listen. Cap'n. I just wanted to say that, yesterday, you gave me something nobody has ever given me before. And I don't know what else we're doing, or where this is going, or what's going to happen, and to be honest, I'm not sure I want to know. But your support after we found Adrianna, that meant the world to me, and I'd be remiss if I didn't express my gratitude. So thank you." Brenda finished breathlessly, squeezing the Captain's hand, before releasing it.

Sharon turned, then, and saw the Chief staring down at the carpet. Suddenly, she needed to see her eyes.

"Chief. Look at me?" She requested, slipping her hand back into Brenda's.

Brenda didn't respond, but shifted her gaze to their now joined hands.

"Chief. Give me your eyes. Please?" Sharon waited a beat, before bringing her other hand up to catch the blond woman's chin, tipping her face to meet her gaze. "You're welcome. It was my pleasure." She stared into Brenda's eyes, emphasizing her words with her flashing green stare.

Brenda was mesmerized by those eyes. So green. So open. There were no secrets in that gaze. No pretense. Just Sharon Raydor, staring back at her. Brenda was tempted to step forward, and brush her lips against the Captain's, just once. Nothing urgent, just a soft, sweet gesture of thanks. It felt at once terrible and intimate, to want that. Brenda knew she was coming up to a line. That maybe she'd crossed the line, and was on her way to a precipice. She tilted her head, her eyes never leaving Sharon's. The Captain's breath hitched, and she stepped forward, lowering her head. She aimed slightly to the right, and let her lips come to rest at the corner of the Chief's mouth. She lingered there for a moment, inhaling the sweet magnolia scent of the blond woman, before whispering in to her ear.

"Not yet, Chief. You're still hurting." Sharon stepped back, rubbing the pad of her thumb across the back of Brenda's hand. A testament. A promise. The elevator doors opened.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

**This chapter has a Brenda/Fritz pairing. Sorry. I didn't know they were planning that. I don't think Brenda knew either. **

They donned the scrub gowns, caps, masks, and gloves, and pushed into the morgue. Dr. Morales nodded at them as they entered, and folded the sheet covering the Gomez girl back from her head.

"What can she tell us, doc?" Brenda asked, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

"Well, she was raped, brutally. There's bruising here, and here, and tearing here." The doctor gestured to the victims body, outlining the horrors she'd faced before death.

"Then here, these marks are electrical in nature." He pointed to a series of star shaped burns on the girl's back.

"So someone hit her with a stun gun." Brenda mused, shaking her head.

"Exactly, Chief. She would've been completely immobilized."

"So what was the cause of death?"

"Extensive cranial hemorrhaging. Someone beat her to death." Dr. Morales paused, a catch in his voice. "Pardon me. Working here, there are still some things you never get used to."

Sharon tapped a gloved finger against her chin, deep in thought. Something wasn't sitting right with her.

"Excuse me, doctor. But are you saying she was stunned, completely immobilized, sexually assaulted, then the killer let her get dressed before he beat her to death? That hardly makes sense."

"Something must have set him off after he raped her. That's a lot of anger right there." Brenda took her glasses off, and used the back of her hand to push her hair out of her face before replacing the frames.

"Well, the good news is, he left you a good DNA sample for the rape kit." The doctor replaced the sheet, smoothing it gently over the victim's back.

"Thank you doctor. I appreciate your help." The Chief pulled off the mask and the gloves, tossing them in the trash, then shucked off the cap and the scrub gown. The Captain followed suit, and they walked back out to the elevators.

"Well. Let's notify the family." Brenda said, punching the elevator button.

Sharon shook her head, whispering. "what family?"

Back in the Division, Brenda asked Flynn to give the Disken's a call, see if they could come down to the station. She checked with the rest of the squad, but nobody had any recent updates. She asked Flynn to let her know when the Disken's arrived, and stepped into her office. She dropped heavily into her chair, and dragged open her secret drawer. Only Twizzlers. Dammit. She slammed the drawer shut, and rested her head in her hands. She heard the Captain's heels click into her office, and she glanced up, a tired smile on her face.

"Cap'n." She said simply.

"Chief." Sharon replied. She reached into her jacket pocket, and pulled out a Kit Kat bar from the vending machine, tossing it on Brenda's desk. She sat down in the chair across from Brenda's desk, and smoothed her hair back from her shoulders.

Brenda startled at the object being tossed at her, but recognized the familiar label at once. She grinned up at the Captain, pleased not only at the sudden appearance of the much needed chocolate, but also that the Captain had been kind enough to supply it without any mockery.

"Thank you so much, Cap'n. I cannot tell you, your timing is PERFECT. I was down to Twizzlers, isn't that pathetic?" Brenda chuckled as she tore into the wrapper. Remembering her good Southern upbringing, she offered the Captain half, but Sharon shook her head, gesturing for Brenda to enjoy. As Brenda ate the chocolate, Sharon wrote a short novel in her notebook, but when Brenda asked about it, she just shook her head sweetly.

"You'll know eventually, Chief. I just need to do my job." She smiled to soften the blow.

As Brenda threw the candy wrapper in the trash, Flynn poked his head into her office, letting her know the Disken's had arrived. She stood, and circled around to stand next to the Captain, who was finishing her notes. When Sharon clicked her pen closed, Brenda stepped a half step back, and made a sweeping motion towards the door.

"Shall we, Cap'n?" She affected a sort of bow/curtsy hybrid.

"Sure thing, Chief." Sharon snorted her amusement.

They walked to the small kitchenette, that was now serving as an interview room for suspects who didn't know they were suspects. Sharon leaned against the wall, and Brenda slid into the seat across from the Disken's. She broke the news as gently as possible, and Mrs. Disken sobbed into her hands. Mr. Disken looked uncomfortable at his wife's display.

"I should've talked to her more. I should know these things. 11 years, and I don't know her at all." Mrs. Disken wailed.

"Speak for her now, then. Speak for her now." Brenda leaned across the table, patting the distraught woman on the hand.

Sharon watched Brenda expertly interrogate the couple, without ever making them feel like they were suspects. It was a thing of beauty, watching her in action. She wondered why Brenda was letting Mr. Disken leave the premises. Surely she knew how weak of an alibi 'stuck in traffic' was.

As they stood, Brenda reiterated her sorrow at their loss, giving the woman a compassionate smile. Mrs. Disken turned, and flung her arms around the Chief, sobbing her thanks. Brenda startled at the unexpected contact, but patted the woman gently, before extricating herself. Sharon snorted to herself as she realized the odd sensation that had flared within her at the sight of that hug, was jealousy. Still, she couldn't believe Brenda was just letting them go.

Once the door clicked closed behind them, she was bumped by the opening of the back door, and Lt. Tao entered, apologizing for disturbing her. He walked behind the sink, fetching a black latex glove, and an Xacto knife.

Sharon shook her head, and approached the Chief.

"Chief. I don't understand." She said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Understand what, Cap'n?" Brenda replied.

"The Disken man has motive, a temper, and a weak alibi. You just let your primary suspect walk out the door!" Sharon countered, exasperated at having to spell it out.

"Lt. Tao, he was sitting on the left." Brenda smiled sweetly.

The lieutenant picked up the water bottle, and walked to the sink, before launching into an explanation.

"We'll cut a hole in the bottom of this bottle, and drain the water out, so as not to contaminate the top. Air it out, and we'll have a perfect DNA sample to run against the sample from the Gomez rape kit." The bald man grinned, and headed off.

"Hmm." Sharon hummed, impressed.

"Yes, Captain. Hmm." Brenda was slightly giddy at the woman's admiring gaze. She turned as Lt. Provenza entered the room.

"Oh! Lieutenant! Tomorrow, I want y'all to canvas Arianna's route, and the Disken's neighborhood, and Arianna's neighborhood, and check for leads, anyone who knew her, knew who she spent time with, things like that. " Brenda smiled at the older man when he nodded.

"Commander Taylor has been wondering why you've had the Disken's in. I just thought I'd give you a heads up." Provenza turned and shuffled back out of the room.

"Figures." Brenda groused. She dumped the remaining water bottle into the sink, and tossed it in the trash. She glanced up at the Captain and offered a tired smile.

"You know, Cap'n. We all know what you're investigating, but I just don't see how questioning my methods has anything to do with Will Pope's qualification to be Chief." She knew she wouldn't get a straight answer, but she had to say it anyway.

"I know you think that. But you have to trust me Chief. You'll find out eventually. If you don't mind, I would very much like to accompany your team on the field trip tomorrow." Sharon put her notebook away and fixed her gaze on the blond woman. Her long teal sheath dress hung perfectly on her lean frame, accentuating her curves, and the Captain couldn't help but admire the view as she spoke.

"Of course, Cap'n." Brenda stood for a moment, blushing under the subtle scrutiny. Then she smiled cheekily, put her hands on her hips, turned slowly, and sashayed towards the door. She paused, hanging in the door frame, and looked back over her shoulder at the dark haired woman.

"See you tomorrow, Sharon. Have a good night, now." Brenda left before the Captain could reply, and decided on the stairs, rather then the elevator, to get to her car. No sense in tempting fate any more than she had just then. She shook her head as she walked down a second flight of steps. She had no idea what had come over her just then. That she would flirt so openly, so blatantly with a co-worker, with a lower-ranked co-worker, with a lower-ranked co-worker who was investigating her boss for suitability as Chief? Clearly she'd lost her mind. She slid behind the wheel, and sighed. Her car still smelled of the Captain. Brenda knew that her feelings were spiraling out of control. That in addition to the crazy chemistry, she was actually starting to feel some genuine affection towards the woman. She wondered if that was mutual, or if Sharon's flirtation was steeped in the angry lust that had initially fueled Brenda's desire. She remembered the Captain coming to stand by her after the discovery of the Gomez girl. That didn't seem so angry. That seemed more like the gesture of a friend. Brenda laughed out loud. She didn't have friends. And those co-workers she counted as friends, she certainly didn't wander around preoccupied with thoughts of them in various stages of undress, writhing beneath her touch.

She pulled into her driveway, still lost in thought. The house was dark, so when she opened the front door, she switched on a lamp, and saw Fritz sitting on the sofa in the living room.

"For heaven's sake, Fritzi! Why are you sitting here in the dark? You almost gave me a heart attack!" Brenda dropped her keys on the table in the entry hall, and tossed her bag underneath, kicking off her shoes as she moved towards the inert form on the couch. He looked up at her, and she plopped next to him, taking his hand in hers.

"I dunno Bren. I'm just tired. I thought maybe I'd fall asleep, but clearly that didn't work." He leaned his head back on the sofa. Brenda absently stroked the back of his hand, searching his face.

"What's wrong, Fritz? You haven't been yourself for days now. I've been trying to give you some space, but I don't know what to do for you." She leaned into him, aware of all his hard angles against her body.

"Maybe I didn't want space. Maybe, I wanted my wife to notice something beyond her job. Maybe I wanted you to ask me about more than my day at work, a cursory question that you never actually hear the answer to." He pulled his hand away, and shifted away from her on the couch.

"We don't talk, anymore, Brenda. You haven't been her for weeks, not really. I don't know where you are, but you aren't with me. We haven't made love in over a month."

"Fritz! I'm here. Where else would I be? You knew getting into this, that my job was important to me. You knew who I was when we got together. Yes, these past few cases have been difficult, but I'm here, every night, with you. You can't blame this all on me." Brenda spat back, pushing down the wave of guilt over the unintended truth of his words.

"I'm not, Brenda. You asked me what was wrong. I'm telling you. I miss my wife. I've had a hard month at work too, but we only ever talk about YOUR job, and your cases, and your never ending feud with that woman, and I'm tired of it, Bren. I'm tired of it. I want to hold you again, I want to make love, and feel like you're with me again. Like you still love me." Fritz pinched the bridge of his nose, then brushed his hair back with his hands.

Brenda sat still for a moment, processing what he'd said. Maybe he was right. Maybe she hadn't been fair to him. Maybe she'd checked out during this past month, both because of work, and because of whatever was happening with the captain. This was her _husband_, for heaven's sake. Brenda swung herself around on the couch so that their hips were touching, and she was facing him. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry Fritzi. I miss you too." She lifted her head, her eyes meeting his. She tilted her chin so their lips met. His were dry, and soft against hers. He skimmed his tongue along her lower lip, begging entrance, and she opened to him. He deepened the kiss, and ran his hands down her arms, catching her hand in his. His large thumb traced her knuckles, and even as she sucked his lower lip into her mouth, she recalled the feeling of a smaller, softer hand tracing hers. Pushing that thought away, Brenda took control. She grabbed his hand, and brought it to her breast, encouraging him to squeeze, feeling her nipples pucker into his palm. She sighed into his mouth, and shifted again so that she was straddling him, pulling her dress up to bunch around her hips. He broke the kiss, and latched on to her throat, still caressing her breasts, and she angled herself down, rolling her hips into the hard length tenting his trousers. He groaned, and brought his other hand in between them, stroking her through the silk of her panties. Brenda tried to stay focused. She and Fritz had danced this dance a thousand times. Her body knew what to do, but it was like she'd forgotten the routine. His questing fingers paused, unaccustomed to the dry friction they were encountering. He pulled back, and looked at her.

"Bren?" He said questioningly.

"Shhh. Don't talk. Just kiss me." She answered breathlessly.

She leaned into him, closed her eyes, and thought of Sharon Raydor as his lips captured hers. She thought of the heat of the woman's hand in hers, the sharp citrus scent, the softness of her calf, her knee. She thought of that slightly unbuttoned blouse, the hint of creamy flesh as her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of her breathing.

Fritz relaxed as he felt the familiar sensation of Brenda's arousal coat his fingers. He lightly rubbed circles around her clit, before slipping one inside, thrusting gently. Brenda rolled her hips again, pressing her clit against the heel of his hand as he pressed another finger to her entrance. She reached down and grazed the thickness of him with her nails, caressing him softly with the pads of her fingers. She found his belt buckle, and made short work of it, then unfastened his fly. He raised his hips, and she slid the pants and boxers down, exposing his jutting erection. Brenda closed her eyes and kissed him again, thinking of her lips against a small, delicate wrist. She reached down and shimmied out of her panties, sliding down over him, burying him deep, as she thought about her thumb tracing the soft wetness of Sharon Raydor's lower lip. She thought of the woman sitting next to her in the car,that lip caught between her teeth as Brenda touched her. The flush of those cheeks, the sound of her ragged breathing. Brenda rode Fritz roughly, holding his hands to her breasts, crushing them, as she thought of that skirt sliding up as the woman shifted, those pale thighs lending a promise of better things to come. Brenda felt herself coming close to the edge, as she imagined her hands sliding up that skirt, she reached down and caressed her own thighs, moaning. She ran a hand across her curls, groaning softly. As Fritz bucked up into her, she pressed her thumb against her clit, and stroked down, imagining she was touching the Captain in that most intimate of ways, and she shattered, her walls pulsing around Fritz. She gasped, riding out the most intense orgasm she'd ever had, and seconds later, Fritz followed behind, his seed spilling hot and intrusive into her sensitive body. She pulled off of him, murmuring something about the dry-cleaning bill for the dress she still wore, and headed to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind her, she sank down on to the toilet, and sobbed.


	7. Chapter 7

Later that evening, after a quick dinner, Brenda crawled into bed beside her husband. He snuggled up to her back, laying his arm heavy around her waist. She felt him press his lips against her hair, and sigh contentedly.

"I'm glad you're back, Brenda Leigh." He said, his voice sleepy.

"I'm here Fritzi. I never left." She pulled the blankets tighter around her shoulders, wishing she could be sure of that. She lay awake in his arms, as his breathing slowed, and she thought about her predicament. Brenda had never had a problem with monogamy before. She'd not known Will was married when they first started dating, and by the time he'd been honest with her, she was already in love. That had put her off love for a while, but then she'd rushed in, gotten married when she wasn't ready, and THAT had ended terribly. Now Fritz. They'd had such a slow burn. He'd been so kind. So attentive. He'd been exactly what she needed, back at the start. Now, it seemed all they did was argue about her job. She knew that he thought his being in recovery held him back from being promoted at the FBI, but Brenda was secretly relieved. If he got promoted, he'd want to move back to DC. And her home was LA now. She loved this job. More than her 7 years with the CIA, this was her calling. She slid out from under his arm, feeling crushed by his presence. Looking at his sleeping form, she tried to recall the passion she'd felt for him before. Instead, she found herself looking at his hands, and comparing them to a set of smaller, more delicate hands. His hair, tousled from sex and sleep, stuck up in messy spikes around his head. The dark chocolate color seemed drab in comparison to a wild, autumnal mane that smelled of citrus.

Was she falling out of love with Fritz? Because of some weird obsession with a woman who didn't even seem to particularly like her? Brenda shook her head. Whatever was going on with the Captain had to stop. She couldn't throw everything away for the possibility of one night of passion. She was a married woman. She had responsibilities. She could be an adult. She was not ruled by her hormones. She could do this.

The next morning, she sat across the table from Fritz, drinking her coffee as he munched on a bagel.

"You said last night that work had been upsetting. Wanna tell me about that?" She asked, swirling the coffee around in her mug.

"Ah, it's nothing too bad. Just, we're having trouble with an informant, and they're making me babysit more than I'd like. I should be free of it today, though, because I have to present with the Federal prosecutor. Maybe I'll swing by for lunch when I'm through." Fritz shoved the last of his bagel in his mouth, and stood, taking his plate to the sink and wiping the crumbs.

Brenda watched him, thinking that it would've never occurred to her to wipe the crumbs up until just before setting the table for dinner. They were so different. But that's why she loved him, right?

"I think lunch sounds like a splendid plan, hon." Brenda drained her cup, and set it back on the table, and went off in search of her shoes. She had just bent over to check under the table in the entryway when she heard a crash from the kitchen. She ran, and found Fritz standing behind where she'd been sitting, gripping the back of her chair so tightly his knuckles were ghostly white. The coffee cup lay shattered across the floor in front of the sink. Brenda looked at him, eyes wide.

"Fritzi?" She asked, her voice even, belying her fear. "What happened?"

"I think I might need a meeting, tonight." He ground out, still clutching the chair.

"All right. I was coming back to put that in the sink. You didn't have to destroy it, Fritz." She wanted to make it clear that he was wrong, even though she hadn't actually intended to put the cup in the sink.

"No, Brenda. You weren't. You never put your dishes in the sink after a meal. The breakfast dishes are there at dinner. The dinner dishes are there at breakfast. I work just like you do, but I manage to summon up the energy to pick up after myself. Did you know, that I was offered a promotion a while ago? That while you were off with your arch-nemesis, catching out a shady cop in her domestic violence charade, the FBI offered me a promotion? That night that you were late for dinner. That's when I was going to tell you. But I knew. I knew that if I asked you to choose between your job, and your husband, you wouldn't choose me." Fritz exhaled, shakily.

Brenda stood there, unmoving, and unsure of what to say. The first thing that popped into her head, came flying out of her mouth before she could catch it.

"She's not my arch-nemesis, for goodness sake! What promotion? Did you accept?" She asked, covering for her initial indiscretion.

"So you're friends now?" He scoffed.

"We've come to a professional understanding. We don't like each other," she hedged, "But we have to work together, so we try to do that." Brenda kept her features neutral, her voice even.

"What promotion, Fritz? And how could you not tell me? How could you not give me the chance?" At this, Brenda let some emotion seep into her tone.

"It involved moving back to DC. I knew you wouldn't go." He said simply.

"But you didn't give me a chance to make that decision. Instead, you've been angry at me for a month, for something I didn't actually do. Now you're breaking my china? I don't know what has gotten into you, AGENT HOWARD, but I don't like it. I don't like it at all. I won't be punished for not knowing. You knew! You knew when you started courting me, that I was devoted to my job. You knew who I was. Who I am. But I am also your wife, and as such, I should be privy to your huge, life changin' decisions, especially when they also affect my life, don't you agree?" The angrier she got, the more pronounced her Southern heritage became.

"I'm sorry for breaking the china. I'm sorry for not telling you about the promotion. It's still on the table. Think about it. I have to go to work." Fritz spun on his heel and walked out, leaving the shattered china on the floor.

Brenda sank to her knees, gathering up the pieces. Try as she might, she couldn't get them to fit together again. She couldn't make it whole again.


	8. Chapter 8

Sharon stood on the corner with Brenda's squad. She'd only seen the Chief at the morning briefing, and she wondered why the blond woman was so withdrawn, why there were dark circles under her eyes. She was pondering this, when a sudden flow of people inundated the sidewalk. She glanced at Provenza, quirking an eyebrow.

"If I'm not mistaken, the Disken's live about a half a mile up that hill." She said, squinting into the distance.

"And if Adrianna was on time like the Disken's said she was, then these," Provenza gestured at the people walking past, "would be her bus-mates."

Raydor watched as Detective Sanchez asked a group of Hispanic women if they knew Adrianna, flashing her photo and speaking fluent Spanish. His earnest approach to this case astounded Sharon. The whole team seemed to have adopted Brenda's empathetic tendencies, even Flynn and Provenza, who, until recently, she'd been convinced were perpetual adolescents, even as they hit middle age and beyond. She took out her notebook, and jotted a few things down, and then followed the team to the park, to ask about Adrianna there. As she observed the team, she saw the Chief's influence in everything they did. They were kind, but keen. They were polite, but persistent. They all conducted themselves with an air of being approachable, but still authoritative. She'd honestly, in all her years of IA work, never seen a team function as such a flawless extension of it's leader. It was a beautiful thing to see in action. She wondered what Brenda would think if she told her. She wondered what Brenda was doing now.

Brenda stood next to Commander Taylor, watching Chief Pope rant and rail about how she was mucking up his meeting with the mayor by treating the Disken's as suspects. Well, the husband, anyway. She was detached from the whole thing, only taking a moment to hiss at Taylor.

"You really need to get your own office, Commander."

"I couldn't agree more Chief." He replied with a smile.

"Remember when this was supposed to be an opportunity for me?" Will groaned, sinking into his chair.

They all turned as someone knocked on the door. Will's secretary let Detective Gabriel into the room, and he had a thin manila folder in hand.

"Yes, Detective? What is it?" Brenda asked, seeing in his face that the news wasn't good.

"We have two more victims." He replied, sighing heavily.

Brenda pinched the bridge of her nose under her glasses, as Pope let his head fall forward on to his desk with a thud. Brenda nodded at the Commander, and the Chief, and left with her detective. They walked back to the briefing room, and he caught her up on the details of the assaults. Entering, she saw that most of the team was back, including Captain Raydor. She smiled at the room in general, trying not to let her eyes linger on the dark haired woman. She noticed with some relief that she was in a pantsuit again. She plucked the photo of Disken off the murder board, and handed it to Lt. Tao.

"Can you please call the lab, and see how much longer we have to wait for the results of Disken's DNA results? Tell them it's for Chief Pope." Brenda turned back to the board, sensing the subtle shift as the Captain stepped into place beside her.

"Chief, do you always use the name of a male superior officer to get what you want?" Sharon asked incredulously.

"Of course," Brenda countered, using her teeth to take the cap off of a dry erase marker, "don't you?" She began to write the names of the 2 new rape victims on the board.

"Detective Gabriel, let's do this in order. Which is the first victim, the one from USC?"

"Lupe Nava. No drivers license, no social, no home address, but we do have a work address. Same zip code as the Disken's."

"Another Nanny?" Flynn said disbelievingly.

"The suspect has a type" Sharon deduced, her voice low.

"But why would she give the hospital her work address, and not her home address?" Gabriel wondered.

"Maybe she's a live-in." Provenza replied, stretching his arms behind his head.

Sharon rode with Brenda to the home of Jeffery Walters, Lupe's listed address. She could tell the woman wasn't ready to engage in any conversation, so she wrote in her notebook, and fed directions to Brenda as she drove. About 10 minutes into the drive, Brenda glanced over at the Captain.

"Cap'n, can I ask you a question?" Brenda spoke slowly, as if she wasn't sure she wanted to actually have a chat.

"Of course, Chief Johnson. I reserve the right not to answer, but you can ask me anything you want." Sharon smiled a bit, in response.

"Are we friends now?" Brenda blurted it out, knowing if she over thought, she wouldn't ask, and she needed to know.

"I'd like to think so, Chief, all things considered." Sharon let her voice drop at the end of her answer, putting more into her answer than just the words.

"Good. Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much." Brenda drove on, not making any further attempts at small talk. Sharon blinked, and pondered pressing the woman on what had prompted that line of questioning, but decided that, if she needed to know, Brenda would tell her. Shrugging her shoulders and sweeping her hair away from her face, she went back to her notebook.

Brenda felt her whole body relax when Sharon answered affirmatively. At least that woman didn't hate her anymore. She didn't know what her future held, didn't know how Fritz factored in at this point, but she had one solid guidepost, and that guidepost was Sharon Raydor. Brenda smirked at the thought. A month ago, she couldn't stand the woman. Arch-nemesis, that's what Fritz had said. Brenda was beginning to wonder if they'd ever really hated each other, or if it had been a mask for the instant chemistry they felt.

Thanks to the GPS system on Sharon's complicated cell phone, they managed to beat the rest of the team to the house. Pulling into a parking space a few doors down, Brenda rolled down the window a bit, and then turned off the ignition. She took her glasses off, and tossed them on the dashboard, rubbing her face with both hands. She pushed her hair back out of her face, and leaned back in her seat. Glancing at the Captain out of the corner of her eye, Brenda could admit to some small disappointment at the pantsuit. Though she was relieved to have a buffer between herself, and those lethal legs, Brenda could still make out the lines of muscle and sinew beneath the fabric. Could still see the slender ankles beneath the hem. The dark colored shell she wore beneath the jacket was scooped low, but not low enough to show anything but those collarbones. Brenda thought about pressing her lips to those delicate bumps beneath the Captain's throat, a small stop on a grand voyage of that incredible body. She flushed, remembering how her body had responded to thoughts of the Captain the night before. Her arousal flared, and she pressed her thighs together, trying to quell the sensations.

Sharon continued to jot things down in her notebook, but as the Chief began to stare, she lost her train of thought. She flipped to a clean page, and just started doodling, to look like she was engrossed in obsessive note-taking. She saw the Chief blush a deeper red than she'd ever seen before, and she watched as the blond woman shifted, pressing her legs together tightly. Sharon understood that gesture all too well. She flipped her notebook closed, and turned towards Brenda.

"Chief?" She asked, leaning in a bit, making her voice dark, and dusky. "Is there anything I can do for you? You look...flushed."

Brenda closed her eyes, flipping between embarrassed, and turned on, and terrified.

"I'm fine, Cap'n. Just thinking, is all." She replied, thinking that would put a stop to further inquiry.

"Thinking about what, Chief Johnson?" Sharon's voice dripped with unspoken promise, smooth and rough at the same time.

Brenda looked up at her, then, and met her gaze directly. The Captain's green eyes flashed, making her even more beautiful. Brenda couldn't look away, those eyes seemed to see inside of her. She'd never looked at the Captain for this long, this head on. The woman was stunning, all symmetry, and complimentary angles. Brenda's breath caught in her throat, and she knew she wouldn't be able to answer, she couldn't look away, couldn't find words.

Sharon reached out, and laid a hand on Brenda's exposed knee.

Brenda flashed back to the last car ride, the bare legs, and she sucked her lower lip between her teeth and bit down, hoping to clear her head. But Sharon didn't stroke, or caress, or do anything except lay her hand on Brenda's knee, and give her a reassuring smile.

"Whatever it is, Chief, you'll figure it out. You always do." She whispered, squeezing Brenda's knee gently, and moving to pull away. Brenda caught her hand, bringing it back to her knee. Sharon hummed at that, knowing that the rest of the squad was going to arrive within the next few minutes. She knew also, that if she started, she wouldn't be able to stop. Touching the Chief now, in the car in front of a suspect's house was not quite the way she'd fantasized. Still, Brenda's skin was so warm. So Sharon scraped her nails gently down Brenda's shin, moving her hand in the safer direction. She held the rest of her body very still, as she moved her hand along the Chief's leg, feeling the softness of her calf, the hard bones of her shin. Brenda sighed, letting her head drop back against the headrest.

"Cap'n. What are we doing?" She asked, huskily.

Sharon wasn't sure what to say. She didn't think Brenda wanted an answer in words. So she slipped her hand back up to Brenda's knee, and then moved it up further, caressing the small bit of thigh exposed just below the skirt. She ran her fingers lightly along the top of Brenda's thigh, never moving any higher than the skirt hem, then let her hand caress the outer side, feeling the slight indentation of the large muscle. She dipped a finger into that hollow, tracing a line from Brenda's knee to the bottom of her skirt. Brenda had been pressing her legs together during this whole encounter, but when Sharon let her hand drift back up to the top of Brenda's thigh, she surrendered, and let her legs fall loosely apart. Sharon let the tips of her fingers ghost along the sensitive skin of Brenda's inner thigh, before returning her hand to the Chief's knee, holding it still. She looked at the blond woman, knowing that this was a turning point, that whatever happened in this moment was going to knock her off the knife's edge she'd been balancing on for the last month. Brenda slowly opened her eyes, and turned to look at the Captain, trying to find a regular rhythm to her breathing before she spoke. As their gaze met, she saw something flash in those clear, green eyes. Saw desire equal to her own, and something more. Something familiar, and alien all at once. She put her hand over Sharon's, holding tightly.

"Cap'n I don't know-" Brenda started to say, but Sharon touched a finger to her lips, shaking her head.

"Sharon. My name is Sharon, Brenda." Sharon whispered, tracing the bow of Brenda's lips with her finger.

"Sharon." Brenda breathed, tasting the name on her tongue.


	9. Chapter 9

They stood in the foyer of the Walters residence, questioning the man about Lupe. Brenda took the picture he offered, and tucked it into her tote.

"When was the last time you saw Lupe?"

"She just stopped showing up. Right before my kid's summer break, thank you very much. No calls, no nothing." He rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest.

The door opened, and a young blond boy bounded in and up the steps, followed by a pretty young Hispanic female.

"I see you've found a replacement." Sharon couldn't help but interject. The man's unpleasant demeanor rankled. She saw Brenda look down quickly, concealing a smile.

"Yeah, it took forever. I had to go through dozens of girls just to find one I could stand."

Sanchez stepped in front of Brenda, and used his cellphone to snap a photo of the man.

"What's this all about?" Walters shifted uncomfortably on his feet, looking worried.

"Do you recognize either of these people?" Brenda asked, holding up photos of the Disken man and Arianna Gomez.

"Nooo. Should I? Listen, it's starting to feel heavy in here. Should I be calling my lawyer?" Walters uncrossed his arms, reaching into his pocket.

"Do you feel like you should call a lawyer, sir?" Sharon asked in a quiet, even tone.

"Nooo. Look, whatever Lupe was into, I had nothing to do with okay? I haven't seen her in over a month and a half. So maybe you could talk to someone else."

"I'm sorry, sir, but you're the only contact information Lupe left behind after she was raped." Brenda paused, weighing his reaction to her words.

"Uhhhh...she?" He stammered, blinking quickly.

"3 months ago, your nanny was the victim of a brutal sexual assault." Sharon ennunciated each word, driving the point home.

"I, uh. I didn't know. That's awful." Walters furrowed his brow.

"It appears to be the work of a serial rapist," Brenda said, sliding back into her gentle tone, "the last victim was found dead in her home. So it would mean a lot to us, if you could help us find Lupe."

"Listen. It's awful. But I told you, I haven't seen her since before summer break. I wish I could help you, I do, but I've told you all I know.

"If you think of anything, sir, please let us know. Thank you so much for your time." Brenda drawled, before spinning on her heel and walking out. The rest of the team followed close behind.

The ride back to the station was quiet, but it was a companionable silence. Sharon wrote in her notebook for a bit, then glanced over at the Chief.

"Do you think we could turn the radio on, Chief?" She asked, noticing the MP3 player in the center console.

"Hmm? Oh, sure. Sure. Go ahead." Brenda nodded absently, still puzzling over the nanny's use of her employer's address.

Sharon clicked on the stereo, and to her immense relief, the song was still queued from the last time they'd ridden with the radio on. She watched the Chief out of the corner of her eye, waiting until she saw the tell-tale blush creep over her cheeks.

"You know, Chief. I love this song. I have to say, I wouldn't have pegged you for a Melissa Ferrick fan, though." She said, her voice low and inviting.

"Uh. Well, I'm not. I mean. This is the only song of hers that I know. And I don't know it that well. I, uh. I bought it off of one of those Internet song sites, after I heard it on the radio a while back. I like her voice. It remind-"Brenda broke off, realizing what she'd almost said.

Sharon held her smile in check. She was pretty sure she knew when Brenda had discovered the song. She'd heard it on the radio the night they'd closed the Ally Moore case, and it had surprised her, because it wasn't really a commercial song. And if it reminded Brenda of something...well, she was pretty sure she knew what that was, as well.

"I have a few CDs by her. I could loan them to you, if you'd like." Sharon offered, allowing her smile to break free.

"Well thank you, Ca—Sharon. That would be lovely." Brenda wasn't sure why she decided to use the woman's real name, instead of her rank just then, but as she glanced over to see how the Captain had reacted, she was graced with a rare, genuine smile. Brenda's breath caught in her throat. When she smiled, really smiled, Sharon Raydor was absolutely stunning.

They met with the rest of the squad in the central room, and Brenda shrugged off her sweater, getting down to business.

"Lt. Flynn, what can you tell me about Mr. Waters?" She asked, throwing her tote on a nearby desk.

"Well, he's a talent scout, so we know he's an asshole, but other than that, he's clean, Chief." Flynn replied with a smirk.

"I took his photo, and Lupe's photo over Adrianna Gomez's route, but nobody recognized either of them." Detective Sanchez spoke quietly.

"Well, there's gotta be some connection between these women." Brenda tapped her fingers on the desk. " We just have to figure out what it is."

"In the meantime, I've got no hits at the Morgue for Lupe Nava, and no Juanita Doe that matches her description. Which is a good thing." Provenza said, directing his last words at Sanchez.

"Well she couldn't have just disappeared! I'll call-" She faltered, then decided that it was for the case, and she could damn well do her job. "I'll call Fritz and see if he can locate her on the Federal Immigration rolls." She stood, turning toward her office. She saw a smirk pass over the Captain's face.

"Something interesting, Cap'n?" She asked, draping her sweater over her arm.

"I was just thinking how difficult it is to get Federal assistance with an LAPD investigation, and what an asset it must be to be married to an FBI agent." Sharon replied, looking up at her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brenda asked.

Sharon smiled, shaking her head, trying to formulate a reply, when Detective Gabriel entered the room.

"Chief, we found the third rape victim. Her name is Marisol Guttierez."

"Is she in the morgue?" Detective Sanchez asked, hunching his shoulders.

"No. She's in Interview with Lt. Tao. I was finally able to get her address from Santa Monica PD, and um, she's a nanny." Gabriel looked at the Chief at those last words.

Before Brenda could reply, Sanchez stood quickly, and stalked out of the room, leaving the squad staring after him. Brenda grabbed her tote, and headed to the Interview room.


	10. Chapter 10

Brenda stepped into the interview room, taking the case file from Lt. Tao as he left. She sat down at the table across from the woman, and smiled.

"Hi, Marisol. I'm Brenda. Thank you so much for coming down here today. No one likes to be here, I know." Brenda crossed her arms on the table in front of her.

"Now, I want you to understand that you're not in any trouble, and everything you say in this room is completely confidential."

"Yo no se. I know nothing. Please don't send me back. Please don't send me back." Marisol whispered, tears filling her eyes.

"How you came into this country is none of my business," Brenda said, leaning forward, "all I care about is finding the man who hurt you, so he can't do it to anyone else. Because that's what he's doin', Marisol. He's hurtin' people." Brenda flipped open the file, and took out the pictures of Adrianna Gomez and Lupe Nava.

"Do you recognize either of these women?" She asked, sliding the photos across the table.

Marisol shook her head, looking away.

"This is Adrianna," Brenda said, pushing her photo forward,"she's a nanny. Just like you. A few days ago, somebody came into her home, tortured her with a stun gun, and then he raped her.

"This is Lupe Nava. She's a nanny too. Three months ago, she also was attacked with a stun gun, and raped. Now the man who did this to these women is the same man who assaulted you. We know this now."

"Aye. Dios mio. Dios mio." Marisol broke down in tears.

Brenda stood, picking up the photo sheet with suspects, and circled the table. She sat down in the chair next to Marisol, and set the sheet in front of her. She placed an arm around the woman's shoulders, and asked if any of them looked familiar. Marisol shook her head, still sobbing. Brenda rubbed her shoulders, reassuringly, holding the woman as she cried.

"Marisol, please. Help me stop the monster who did this. Please." Brenda pleaded.

Sharon stood in the media room, watching the interview on the CCTV. She could see the desperation in Brenda's face, the empathy she felt for the woman she was comforting. Something shifted in the Captain's chest, as she watched Brenda hold the young Hispanic woman. She felt the shift, and cast around inside herself for the old animosity, the ever-present annoyance she felt even in the face of her overwhelming physical attraction to Brenda, and discovered that she couldn't summon up anything but admiration, and a feeling to nebulous to name. She watched Brenda's hands for a moment, relieved to discover that at least her physical attraction hadn't vanished along with the animosity. The sight of those slender fingers sent a thrill through her, regardless.

On the screen, she watched the young woman pull away from Brenda, and swipe ineffectively at the tears on her face.

"I know nothing. I'm sorry. I know nothing." She sobbed, and Brenda just leaned in, and kept rubbing her shoulders.

"Okay, Marisol. Shh. It's okay." Brenda crooned.

Brenda sat at a table in the conference room, since it had more space than her desk. She rested her head on her hand, and stared down at the papers before her. Just then, a large sheaf of documents thudded onto the table in front of her. She jumped, starteld.

"Federal Immigration Rolls for the past 6 months. There are 243 Lupe's, Guadalupe's and Lupitas," Fritz intoned from behind her, "with the last name Nava, living in Los Angeles County."

He sat down in the seat next to her, as she reached for the bundle of paper.

"Fortunately for you, only 5 of them fit the description you gave me. May I see your Lupe Nava?" He asked, holding out his hand.

Brenda rifled through the papers on her desk, locating the photo they'd gotten from Jeffery Waters. She decided she'd ignore the events of the morning, for now.

"2 suspects, 1 dead nanny, one who's vanished, and one who won't talk to me. And all this, with Captain Raydor watching my every move. That woman!" Brenda said, realizing that she actually didn't mind the Captain's presence on the investigation so much, but still feeling slightly rankled at her insinuation about Brenda using Fritz's connections.

Fritz flipped through the files, finding a match.

"Hey hey hey! It's your lucky day." He said, handing her the photo from the FBI file.

"Oh, Fritz. Thank you. I need to talk to her in the worst way." Brenda said, comparing the two photos.

"Well, maybe not so lucky. According to her file, she was deported a month and a half ago."

"Deported to where?" Brenda demanded.

"Mexico." Fritz replied.

Brenda stood awkwardly between Fritz and Sharon, twisting the hem of her sweater in nervous fingers.

"Cap'n, I think it'd be best if you stayed here, and finished observing the team, while I go with Agent Howard down to the INS."

Sharon nodded slowly, looking from Brenda to Fritz. Faced with the reality of their relationship, she scoffed at herself. So she nodded again, this time more curtly, and spun on her heel, walking back into the central room and making a show of looking over a file. Brenda caught her lip between her teeth, knowing that she'd hurt the dark haired woman, and wanting to go to her, but a glance at Fritz's raised eyebrow put her back on track. She had a case to solve. Feelings could come later.

They took Fritz's car, at Brenda's suggestion. She wasn't ready to relinquish the lingering citrus cloud that remained in her car, didn't want it overpowered by Fritz's spicy aftershave, his unmistakably male scent. They sat in silence for a while, the tension between them seemed to push all the air out of the car.

"Listen, Brenda, about earlier," Fritz began, running a hand through his short, dark hair, "I was an asshole. I know it. I apologize. It's just, everybody thinks I got my Liaison position because of you, and then, the promotion offer in DC, well, that was on me, my merits, my qualities as a worker. But I love you, and I knew that I'd lose you if I asked you to pick between LA and DC, between your job, and me."

"You keep saying 'I knew', Fritz, but unless you've developed mind readin' skills you haven't told me about, you didn't know. You assumed. You made a decision based on something you thought might happen, and then you proceeded to treat me like I'd done something to offend you. I can't imagine what you were thinkin' this morning, but I assume you've called your sponsor?" Brenda tried to keep her voice calm, tried not to show her anger.

"Yes, Brenda. I called my sponsor. I'm going to a meeting tonight. And you're right. I did assume. But let's be real. If I take the job, will you come with me? Will you leave Major Crimes behind?" Fritz glanced over at her, waiting for an answer.

"Fritz. I don't know. It's a huge decision. One that we should talk about, together, as a couple. I admit I haven't given it much thought since this morning, but I've been sort of busy trying to find a serial rapist, after all." Brenda replied, tersely.

Fritz snorted, but didn't say anything further. They pulled into the parking lot, and entered the building that housed LA County's INS. They were in luck, the attending officer was available to speak with them.

"Yup, Lupe Nava. That's her, I handled her A file myself. Fairly ordinary case, from what I remember." The man set the photo down on the desk.

"Do you recall if Ms. Nava reported being raped?" Brenda asked hotly.

"Yes," he answered, tapping her photo with a thick finger, "actually she did."

"Excuse me, Agent Myers, but what exactly about sexual assault makes this case ordinary?" Brenda rubbed her hand across her forehead, trying not to shout.

"Ma'am, there are over a million illegal aliens living in LA County. When they end up in this office, they will say anything, and I mean anything, to avoid removal. Including saying that they've been a victim of some crime." Meyers shifted on his feet.

"So you just assumed Lupe was lying?" Brenda asked, disbelievingly.

"Yes. But that didn't stop me from checking out her story. There was no criminal file pending with her name involved, I called the DA's office. And she waived a hearing, opted for voluntary departure, which was another reason I didn't buy this rape claim." Meyers rested his hands on his gun belt.

Brenda chewed on her lip, and Fritz focused his eyes on the ceiling. Meyers looked at them, a realization dawning.

"Oh no. No don't tell me. She was telling the truth? She really was raped?"

"Along with two others that we know about. Arianna Gomez and Marisol Guttierez." Brenda laid their photos on the desk next to Lupe's.

"If I had known, I would've gotten an investigator down here. She could've fought this." Meyers sank into his chair.

"Let me ask you, how did Lupe end up in front of you in the first place?" Fritz's voice was low.

"She was reported by her employer. Jeffery Walters. You want his address?" Meyers asked, eagerly.

"I have it, thank you." Brenda replied absently, thinking hard.

Back in the car, she called the Captain directly.

"Cap'n. I need you to get a search warrant as soon as possible, for the Walters house. Then, bring the team, and Fritz and I will meet you there." Brenda hung up, and tossed her phone on the dashboard. She knew that man had felt off, but she was shocked her instincts had been so lacking. She kicked herself mentally, for allowing her personal issues to stand in the way of her properly doing her job. If she hadn't been so distracted by the Captain, she might've caught something in Walter's body language that would've given her a reason to continue talking to him, a chance to trip him up.

Fritz watched Brenda's face. He knew she was blaming herself for missing something, and he knew he should reassure her, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. Secretly, he hoped that if this case rattled her, if she thought she'd screwed up, maybe she'd be more willing to come to DC with him.

By the time they reached the Walters house, the rest of the team was already there. Brenda's eyes found Sharon immediately, leaning against her car, writing in that damnable notebook. Brenda gathered the team, and they approached the house en masse. When Walters opened the door, Brenda thrust the search warrant in his face.

"I have a warrant to search your residence for items relating to Lupe Nava." She spat, pushing past him.

"Sir, do you own a stun gun?"

"What?" Walters asked, looking baffled.

Brenda felt Sharon standing behind her, and zeroed in on Walters.

"Why didn't you tell me you were having sex with Lupe?" Brenda asked, her voice dangerously low.

"What are you talking about?"

"Of course, rape doesn't have anything to do with sex, does it?"

"She says I raped her?" He took a step back, his eyes wide.

"She didn't say anything, because you had her deported!" Detective Sanchez said, barreling towards the man.

"Now, just hold on one second. I never laid a hand on Lupe." Walters said, holding his hand up.

"Oh. Then you wouldn't mind giving us a swab from your cheek, then." Detective Gabriel piped up.

Just then, the young blond boy they'd seen earlier came into the room, looking scared.

"Dad?" He asked searchingly.

"It's okay sweetie. Everything's fine." Walters nodded reassuringly.

"Detective Sanchez, would you please take Mr. Walters' son outside for a moment? Thank you." Brenda squeezed his shoulder as he passed by her.

"I'll be right there, go ahead with the Detective." Walters waved his hand at his son.

"This is special Agent Fritz Howard of the FBI. He as a few questions for you." Brenda gestured towards Fritz.

"About what?" Walters turned, facing Fritz.

"Let's start with making false statements to a Federal Officer." Fritz answered, leading the man into the sitting room.

Brenda followed along after Detective Sanchez and the boy. Sharon watched her for a moment, then followed.

"Chief? Your suspect went that way." She said, pointing in the direction Fritz had taken the man.

"Children know more about their nanny's than anyone." Brenda replied, still walking.


	11. Chapter 11

Brenda sat next to the boy on the wall, pulling her trench coat closer around her.

"The last time you saw Lupe, did she seem upset at all to you?" She asked, leaning in.

"No. We just went to the park like we always do." He rolled his eyes.

"Did you see anyone there?"

"Not really. I mean, none of my friends really go there anymore."

"Why not?" Sharon asked, tilting her head.

"Well, Jeremy's in England with his family. Paulie went to a baseball camp," he scoffed, "and nobody knows what happened to Reuben."

"'Scuse me. Did you say Reuben?" Brenda asked.

"Yeah."

"You think it's the same Reuben Avery Disken was talking about? His friend from the park?" Detective Gabriel asked Brenda.

"Detective Sanchez, do you still have that photo?" Brenda wondered.

The Detective pulled the photo out of a jacket pocket, and pointed at the boy in the picture.

"Do you know this boy?" He asked.

"No. Uh uh." The boy shook his head.

"Detective Sanchez, would you call Agent Meyers and see if he has a Reuben on his rolls?" Brenda tapped her fingers on her chin, thinking hard.

"Leo, can you tell us how to find Reuben?" she asked, hopefully.

"No. I don't have his phone number or anything."

"Okay. That's okay. Thank you so much for all your help. I know Lupe would be proud of you."

She stood, gesturing to her team. They trekked back into the house, and she asked Fritz to stay with Walters, until they could sort things out. He nodded, and she walked outside.

"Okay. I think we need to talk to Avery Disken again. Let's head over there. Captain Raydor, do you mind if I hitch a ride with you? My car is back at the station." Brenda gave a small smile.

"Of course, Chief." Sharon started off towards her car, with Brenda following close behind.

As they approached the car, Sharon paused at the passenger door, and then opened it for the Chief. Brenda looked at her, smiling.

"Thank you, Cap'n." She said, lowering herself into the seat, and pulling her legs into the car.

"My pleasure. Chief." Sharon replied, letting her gaze run over Brenda's legs.

Brenda blushed as Sharon shut the door. The Captain walked around to the driver's side, and got in, pulling her door shut behind her.

"I'm sorry about before. I just thought-" Brenda began, wanting to smooth things over.

"Listen. He's your husband. I understand, Chief. It's okay." Sharon interrupted, starting the car.

"Well, yes. I know. But I just...I have trouble, when I'm around you, remembering that I am a married woman, Captain. I don't know if you've noticed that." Brenda said, shaking her head.

"I have. It seems to be something I also have trouble remembering, when you're around." Sharon looked over at Brenda, arching an eyebrow.

Brenda blushed again, and laughed softly.

"Y'know, Cap'n, the reason I have to hitch back with you? Is because I didn't want to take Fritz in my car. You know why?"" Brenda closed her eyes, not certain she wanted to see Sharon's reaction to this next revelation.

"Why, Brenda?" Sharon's voice caressed her name.

"Because, my car still has this, this faint orangey-citrus scent. And so it makes me think of you. And I didn't want Fritz and his overwhelming aftershave taking over. I have—I associate that scent with, fond recollections, you see. And I'm not ready to give those up just yet." Brenda kept her eyes closed, even as she felt the car slowing.

Sharon turned her head, looking at Brenda, wondering at the candid confession. She wasn't sure Brenda meant to be quite so honest, judging from the way she had her eyes screwed shut, and her hands clenched in her lap. The Captain reached over, and put her hand over one tight fist. Brenda relaxed, and opened her hand, twining her fingers through Sharon's.

"You have really soft skin, Cap'n." She kept her eyes closed, but focused on the sensation of holding Sharon's hand. They fit nicely together, their fingers interlocking, their palms flat against one another. Brenda stroked her thumb along the back of Sharon's hand, sighing.

"Brenda," Sharon said, hating to end the moment, "Brenda! We're here." She squeezed Brenda's hand, and then pulled away, turning off the ignition.

Brenda opened her eyes, and stared down at her hand, then over at the Captain. She blushed, and put her hand on the door, opening it, and swinging one leg out. Sharon reached out, touched her shoulder.

"Brenda?" She said, causing the blond to look back at her, meeting her eyes, "I'm looking forward to driving home with the scent of magnolias." She turned and got out of the car, leaving Brenda sitting with one leg in, one leg out, a mixture of happiness and confusion sprinkled across her face.


	12. Chapter 12

Brenda walked into the Disken's house, nodding at Mrs. Disken, and smiling at Avery. The Detectives were already inside, and Avery led them all upstairs to his computer.

"Like I told these guys, I don't have his phone number, but we're friends on Facebook. Maybe that'll help." He said, sitting down and clicking on the browser on his laptop. He surfed to the correct page, and leaned back in the seat.

"Did you guys find Adrianna?" He asked hopefully.

Brenda kept her face neutral, glancing up at Mrs. Disken, who shook her head slightly.

"We're trying to locate her family in Mexico, Avery. Do you know how old Reuben is?" Brenda asked, leaning down.

"My age, I guess. Maybe a little younger. Adrianna wouldn't go back to Mexico. She-" He stopped talking as the door to his room abruptly opened, and his father stormed in.

"What's going on?" Asked Mr. Disken, furiously.

"Mr. Disken. Hello." Brenda said, turning towards the angry man.

"You have no right to be here, and question my son!" He blustered.

Brenda marched towards him, backing him towards the door. Detective Sanchez followed behind.

"This has gone way too far! You cannot bring the children into this. We haven't told them about Adrianna." He said, turning to look at the Chief.

"Neither have I, sir. I assure yo-"

"You are not hearing me. Get your people out of my son's room NOW!" He snapped.

"Sir, I am very close to solving this case," Brenda said carefully, "and if you interfere with me any more, I will arrest you. I already have an FBI agent at the home of another suspect, I'd be happy to do the same for you."

"What makes me a suspect?" Disken asked incredulously.

"Well, you've got quite a temper, for starters. That certainly fits the bill. Now stand out here, and be very very quiet." Brenda held her finger over her lips, then pointed at the man, driving her point home. She turned, and walked back into the boy's room.

"It's all right, go on." Brenda said, taking her place behind Avery's chair.

"Reuben hasn't updated his status in a long time. But here he is." Avery gestured to the screen.

"Now, his profile just says Reuben, do you know his last name?" Detective Gabriel asked.

"Uh uh. But here's his photo page." Avery clicked a link, and a screen full of photos appeared.

Brenda bent low to get a better look, adjusting her glasses a bit. She focused in on a photo of the boy with a man who looked familiar.

"Who's that?" She asked, pointing to the picture.

"I guess that's his dad." Avery replied, shrugging.

Brenda felt her stomach drop. She turned to look at Detective Sanchez.

"Detective, were you able to reach Agent Meyers earlier?" She asked, her voice strained.

"He wasn't in his office. I left a message." Replied the detective.

Brenda streaked out of the room, tossing her thanks for Avery's help over her shoulder. Her team raced behind her, and once they were outside, she quickly explained that Meyers was the agent they'd spoken to at the INS, and he was apparently also Reuben's father. Brenda felt certain that he was behind the crimes, and she was terrified that the boy was in danger.

She yanked the passenger door to Sharon's car open, and hopped in, and the Captain started the car. She tossed her phone to Brenda, explaining how to access the GPS. Brenda punched in the address, and then sat back, holding her head in her hands.

"Chief. Brenda. You've figured it out. We'll get to the boy in time. It'll be okay." Sharon wanted to reach over and offer her hand to Brenda, but decided to keep both hands on the wheel, given the speed at which they were traveling.

Sharon screeched to a halt in front of the address, and Brenda tumbled out of the car, pulling her weapon free. She caught the vest Sanchez tossed her way, and shrugged it on as she raced up the steps. The Detective kicked the door in, and the team swarmed in.

"Agent Meyers? It's Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson. Is now a good time?" Brenda asked, moving quickly through the rooms as they were cleared.

"Chief, in here!" She heard Detective Sanchez call.

Brenda rounded the corner into a bedroom, and saw Sanchez on his knees, pulling a young boy out from under the bed. The boy was bleeding, and crying, and asking them to leave. Sanchez gestured to wires on the floor.

"Stun gun darts." He said, looking the boy over for more injuries.

"Reuben, it's okay. We're the police, we're here to help you." Brenda said soothingly.

"No, no, you can't be here. I'm already in so much trouble!" The boy cried.

"Who? Who are you in trouble with, Reuben?" Brenda crouched to make eye contact.

"I'll call the paramedics Chief" Detective Gabriel stood in the hall.

"My dad." Reuben said, flinching as Detective Sanchez shone the flashlight down his shirt.

" Reuben, do you know where your dad is?" Brenda asked.

"No. He took the van from work. He's gone." Reuben hunched into himself.

"Detective Sanchez, stay here until the paramedics arrive."

"Yeah Chief." The detective replied, moving to sit next to the frightened boy.

Brenda swept out of the room, almost bumping into Flynn on the way by.

"Chief. Meyers isn't here." He said, following her into the entry hall.

"Of course not!" Brenda cried. "OOH. I told him everything about the case! Okay. Think. Think. Think." She paced, holding her head.

"Where did he go. Where did he go. Meyers was targeting illegal aliens." Brenda muttered.

"But Adrianna was an American citizen." Sharon said, laying a hand on Brenda's shoulder.

"That's why he killed her." Brenda finished the thought, grateful for the Captain's grounding presence. "He couldn't silence her with deportation." She paused, and a horrified look settled on her features.

"What's wrong?" Sharon asked.

"Oh my god. He's going after Marisol." Brenda said.

"Why would he bother. We have his DNA." Sharon stated gently.

"It's the one thing I didn't tell him. He's going to be REALLY angry." Brenda grabbed her bag, and shot out the door, with the Captain and the team on her heels. She flew into Sharon's car, and grabbed her cell phone.

"Fritz! You have to go to Marisol Guttierez's house. He's there, I know he's there. You just have to trust me on this. You're about 5 blocks away." She gave him the address, and hung up the phone, throwing it aside.

"Dammit. Dammit. We have to get there, Sharon. We have to get there." Brenda looked at Sharon pleadingly.

"We will Chief. We will." Sharon replied, gunning the engine, and flaring her sirens. She cut the sirens as they approached, and picked up her radio.

"There's his van. Box him in, fellas. Box him in." She put the radio back, and watched as Brenda ran full tilt towards the house.

"There he is!" Detective Gabriel shouted. "Chief, get back!"

Brenda kept advancing on Meyers, who held the young Hispanic woman around the neck, with a gun pointed at her head.

"Back away!" He yelled, gesturing with the gun. "Drop your weapon and back away."

"Let her go! Drop your gun!" Detective Gabriel yelled from behind Brenda.

Sharon watched in astonishment, as Brenda continued to approach the man. Because of her position, nobody on the team had a clear shot, and they were all yelling at her to back up, or to get down on the ground. But she just kept going. Sharon wanted to close her eyes, to offer up some sort of prayer for Brenda's safety, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the woman long enough to do so.

"Now, let's not anybody do anything stupid." Brenda said, holding her hands out in front of her, but not cocking her weapon.

"Move your cars. I am serious. Move your cars NOW!" Meyers roared.

"Let the girl go, and then we can talk, okay?" Brenda said, calculatingly.

"I am not standing around waiting for S.W.A.T. Move your cars, or I will put a bullet in her head, do you understand me?" He tightened his grip around the woman's neck, and held the pistol close to her temple.

"Now let's just keep our cool, all right?" Brenda said. She glanced over, seeing Fritz's SUV pull up a few houses away.

"No! Move your cars, or I will blow her brains, all over this sidewalk!"

"Agent Meyers. Please calm down. We can all walk away from this." Brenda said.

"No! I am not kidding. MOVE YOUR CARS!"

"There's only one way for all of us to walk away from this, and that is for you to drop your weapon, and come with me!" Brenda spat, glaring at the man.

"I'll let her go when I'm out of here." Yelled Meyers.

"This is NOT a NEGOTIATION!" Brenda yelled back, bringing her weapon up to aim at the man's head. "If you shoot her, we will kill you. If you run, we will kill you. If you do not drop your weapon, we will kill you. Now drop your weapon, and GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!" Brenda's face was red with fury.

"If I die, I'll take her with me. And maybe I'll put a bullet in you too, bitch!" Meyers retorted. "Now MOVE your cars!"

"This is your last chance, Agent Meyers." Brenda said, as the police helicopters circled overhead.

Meyers looked up as the search lights spilled down on him. He glared at Brenda, and turned the muzzle of his pistol from Marisol's temple to aim at Brenda.

"Bitch" He spat, pulling the hammer back.

And then he was falling, and Marisol was running towards the police. Brenda stared at the dead man for a moment, then turned to find the only person she'd been thinking of, as she'd stared down the barrel of that gun. Sharon was standing with her gun still drawn, her hands steady, even as her legs shook. Brenda took a step towards her, when she felt someone grab her roughly by the arm.

"Brenda! Jesus! You could've been killed!" Fritz yelled, hugging her close. "Never, ever do that again. Ever." He held her tight, dropping kisses on her head. She could feel his hands trembling. She nodded against his chest, then pushed him away.

"I know, Fritz. I'm sorry. Thank you, for saving me. I'll be all right now. I have to get back to work." Brenda was moving automatically towards her team, not really hearing herself. As she turned away from Fritz, she scanned the crowd, and saw Sharon standing near the van, eyes fixed on Brenda. She walked over, and her team surrounded her, and as she allowed them hugs, she held out her hand to the Captain, who took it, and she held on tightly, closing her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. Flynn had managed to jimmie the lock on the back of the van, and wrenched the doors open. They found another 6 young Hispanic women, all cuffed and sobbing. Brenda shone her flashlight on them, murmuring in a soothing tone, and crawling in the van to unlock their cuffs. Fritz came to stand at the bumper.

"Brenda. Surely your team can handle this? Shouldn't you come home now, after everything?" He implored gently.

"No, Fritz. I have to finish this. I have to." She replied, not looking at him. She knew that he'd fired the killing shot. She knew he'd saved her life. She knew that he loved her more than anything, but Brenda couldn't change the fact that had slammed her in the gut when Meyers pointed the gun at her. It wasn't Fritz she thought of, in that heavy, terrible moment. It was Sharon Raydor, and it was bone crushing regret that filled her, for all the things she'd left unsaid.

"Okay, Brenda Leigh. I'll see you later tonight." He replied, looking down as he walked away.

Sharon was guiding the women out of the van, and over to the medics, draping her coat around each woman as she led them to the ambulances, where they'd be wrapped in heated blankets. On her last trip, she gently placed the jacket around Brenda's shoulders, as she helped her climb out of the van. She kept her arm around Brenda, and Brenda leaned into her gratefully.

"Be sure and thank your husband for me, Brenda." Sharon said, a small smile playing around her lips.

"Why's that?" Brenda looked up at Sharon's face quizzically.

"Since he fired the killing shot, FID won't have any paperwork to do!" Sharon bumped her hip into Brenda's, and Brenda dissolved into peals of laughter.

"Can I give you a ride back to the station, Chief?" Sharon asked in a more serious tone.

"Unless you'd rather I hitched, that'd be lovely, Cap'n." Brenda replied, stepping off the sidewalk towards Sharon's car. Sharon held her elbow, keeping her steady, as they walked, and then she opened the door for Brenda, waiting until the Chief was settled, and shutting the door behind her. She walked around the back of the car, needing a moment to reign in the raw emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. She cleared her throat, and squared her shoulders, tossing her hair back, and then got into the car. As she keyed the ignition, she glanced over at the blond woman, and blinked twice, not really comprehending what she was seeing. Brenda was leaned against the window, with tears streaming down her face, and it looked, for all the world, like she'd buried her nose in Sharon's jacket.


	13. Chapter 13

Driving back to the station, Sharon held Brenda's hand, waiting for her to speak. After about 5 minutes, she glanced over, and saw that Brenda's cheeks were dry, and her breathing more even.

"You were very brave, back there." Sharon said quietly.

Brenda choked out a small laugh.

"I think most people would've called it reckless. Dangerous. Foolish. That's what Fritz would say." Brenda rolled her eyes.

"Listen. I don't speak for anyone but myself, Chief. In my opinion, facing down Meyers was an act of great bravery. You scared the hell out of me, I'll be honest. But because of you, Marisol is safe, and so are all those girls who were locked in the Van. You made a difference in a lot of lives, tonight, Brenda. Don't let anyone diminish that because of fear." Sharon squeezed Brenda's hand once, before letting go, and pulled into the parking garage.

Putting the car into Park, and keying off the ignition, Sharon leaned back in her chair. She knew that they had to finish the paperwork. She knew that her assignment with the team was officially complete. She felt a pang of disappointment, and pushed it down. She put her hand on the door handle, ready to open it, when she heard the Chief say her name.

"Sharon." Brenda had turned her body to face the driver's seat.

"Yes?" Sharon replied, turning back to look at the blond woman.

"I need a minute before we go up there. Can we take the stairs, do you think? I mean, will you walk with me?" Brenda asked hopefully.

"Indeed, Chief." Sharon replied.

The women got out of the car, and as Brenda walked around to join Sharon, she realized she was still clutching the woman's coat like a security blanket. Lowering her head, she gave one last deep inhale, relishing the citrus sting in her lungs, and then she stepped into place next to the Captain, holding out the jacket to return it. Sharon took it, and shook it out, and then draped it around the Chief's shoulders, letting her arm rest along the same plane. They stepped into the stairwell, it was well lit, but rarely used, and had a faint, musty scent, reminiscent of spilled gasoline.

"Why did what I did tonight scare the hell out of you?" Brenda asked, as they walked up the first of several flights of steps. "You'd think you'd be used to reckless cop behavior, being the head of FID."

Sharon stopped on the landing, and leaned against the railing, trying to choose her words carefully.

"What you did, if Fritz hadn't been there to take the shot, you might have been killed. At the very least, you'd have quite a headache for a while. That was frightening, to me." She finally said, looking down at her shoes.

"Officers die in the line of duty all the time, though, Captain." Brenda said, pulling the woman's jacket closer around her shoulders.

"Officers aren't you, Brenda." Sharon's eyes widened as she realized she'd given voice to that thought.

Brenda looked at her, meeting her slightly surprised gaze, and took two purposeful steps forward, cupping her hand to Sharon's cheek. She traced her thumb across the Captain's lower lip. Sharon let her lips part, and Brenda dipped her thumb in, trailing it across the smooth skin inside.

"The first time I did this, I couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you, you know? I wondered how your lips would taste, if you would kiss me back, or push me away. I wondered if you thought about kissing me." Brenda whispered breathlessly.

Sharon held her gaze, and nodded almost imperceptibly. Brenda leaned in, closing the distance between them, and pressing her lips to Sharon's. She kept her hand against Sharon's cheek, slowly moving her lips against the Captain's. Sharon sighed into the kiss, and brought her hands to rest on the Chief's hips, relishing the feel of their bodies pressed so closely, of the Chief's soft lips on hers. She felt Brenda's tongue tracing the bow of her lip, begging access, and she opened to her, tasting the sweetness of her mouth, as the first contact of their tongues touching made her gasp. Brenda's hand moved around from her cheek to the back of her neck, tangling gently in the hair there. Sharon nipped Brenda's lower lip, and the Chief gave a small moan.

Sharon used her back muscles to push off of the wall, and quickly spun them around so Brenda was against it. She'd wanted this for so long. And tonight, she'd almost lost it all. She pressed herself against Brenda, working her leg in between those gorgeous thighs, still covered by the floral dress. Brenda clutched at her back, pulling her closer, holding her in the kiss, teasing with her tongue. Eventually, they had to stop for breath, but Sharon feathered kisses along Brenda's jaw, as Brenda took one hand, and stroked it down Sharon's cheek, down the elegant expanse of her throat, and bumping over her collarbones, before cresting the swell of her breast through the white button down shirt. Sharon smiled against Brenda's skin, remembering her initial impression that Brenda had been interrupted that first time around. She felt her nipples harden beneath the cups of her bra, and she moaned, sucking hard on the delicate skin at the Chief's neck.

"Sharon. My Sharon" Brenda whispered, running her hands up and down the woman's sides, her back, mapping her body with her fingertips. Sharon reached down, and stroked the outer side of Brenda's thigh through the dress, and Brenda sighed at the contact, reaching down and fisting her skirt in her hands, baring more of her leg. Sharon's fingers ghosted gently along the long lines of Brenda's legs, as her mouth blazed a trail from her jaw to the scooped neck of the dress. Brenda slid her hands under Sharon's jacket, and pulled the hem of her shirt free from the waistband of her trousers, feeling the heat of the Captain's skin beneath her palms. Sharon raised her head and captured Brenda's lips in another kiss, pressing their bodies together, sliding a hand up to cup Brenda's breast, cursing the many layers of fabric between them. Brenda arched her back, wanting to be as close to Sharon as possible. The railing ground into her tailbone, reminding her of their location. She broke the kiss, pushing Sharon back a bit.

"We can't..." She said, her voice husky with desire.

Sharon stepped immediately back, straightening her jacket and schooling her features into a mask of indifference.

"Of course. Fritz." She began tucking her shirt back into her pants.

"What? No. NO!" Brenda realized she'd been grossly misunderstood. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Sharon's unyielding figure. "No. I just meant, not here. Not in a stairwell, not for something as important as this. I want to be able to see you, to touch all of you. I can't do that here. I want more than, just, up against a wall. I want...you. God, I've wanted you since the first day you walked onto my Crime Scene, trying to take over. But ever since the Moore case, it's been...I don't even know what to say, I can't stop thinking about you. I think about you when I shouldn't. These past few days, they've been like the most exquisite torture, because you're right there, and you're still so far out of my reach. I didn't mean to hurt you, just now. I just want this to be right. I don't want you to think that it's just because some nutjob almost shot me. Because it's not. I mean, it is, a little bit, because who knows how long I would've kept dancing around my feelings, but the feelings have always been there, Sharon. I tried to hate you. I tried so hard. I just-"

Sharon leaned her head forward and covered Brenda's lips with her own, stopping the tidal wave of words with a sigh.

"Indeed, Chief." Sharon's voice, soft around the edges, said everything she needed to say, with those two words.

Brenda held her tight, in a crushing hug, and finally, Sharon relented, circling her arms around Brenda's waist, resting her cheek on the Chief's soft blond hair. After a moment, she pulled back, and gestured towards the door.

"How about we take the elevator the rest of the way up?"

"Sounds good, Cap'n." Brenda replied, pulling the door into the parking garage open and stepping through, holding it open behind her for Sharon. They walked over to the elevators, and Brenda pushed the call button. She stood with her shoulder touching the Captain's, the backs of their hands brushing. The elevator doors slid open.

"After you, Sharon." Brenda stepped aside, and didn't hide the fact that she was enjoying the view, as the Captain walked into the elevator, smirking.

"Damn the paperwork. I just want to go home." Sharon said, as Brenda leaned in to kiss her neck.

"Funny. Home's the last place I want to be right now." Brenda replied, sliding her hands down the fronts of Sharon's thighs.


	14. Chapter 14

The murder room was ablaze with activity, and when Brenda walked in, she found herself surrounded by her team once more.

"Chief, you're gonna give me a heart attack before my time!" Provenza said, clapping an arm around her shoulder, and squeezing it affectionately.

"What do you mean, before your time, Provenza? You're past due, the way you eat." Flynn scoffed, smirking at Brenda and nodding.

"Gentlemen, I'm glad to see you too. And I'm sure, if one of y'all had been the first on the scene, it would be you collecting these undeserved accolades. I was just doin' my job. And now, my job requires me to complete a report before I can go home, which I would dearly like to do. If you'll excuse me?" Brenda gave them all a tired smile, making her way towards her office.

Once inside, she flopped down in her seat, and rested her head in her hands. Everything was happening so fast. She thought of Sharon, down in IA, probably the only person still on duty in that department, this late in the evening. She grabbed her headset, and punched in her extension, letting it ring once, before hanging up. She'd just left the woman 5 minutes ago. What could she possibly have to say? She shook her head, mentally kicking herself for acting like a love sick teenager. Reaching for an incident report blank and a pen, she jumped when her line rang. Glancing at the internal caller ID, she winced as she saw the FID extension appear.

"Deputy Chief Johnson" she said smoothly, feeling a blush steal over her cheeks at having been discovered.

"It's okay. The only reason I saw your extension flash on the CID was because I had my hand on the receiver, trying to talk myself out of calling you." Sharon said, bemused.

"I don't even really have anything to say, I just can't focus on this report, and I wanted to hear your voice." Brenda sighed, cradling the receiver between her ear and her shoulder, and penning the date on the form.

"I actually do have something I want to talk to you about, but it can wait until tomorrow. My excuse was going to be that I wanted to let you know that." Sharon chuckled softly.

"Well, tell me now. What is it?" Brenda asked, as she filled in her name, rank, and badge number, by rote on the form.

"It really can wait. I think you've had quite enough work related drama for one day, wouldn't you say, Chief?" Sharon sat back in her chair, and twirled the phone cord around her finger, winding it tightly enough to turn her fingertip white, and then letting it unspool quickly.

"I guess so." Brenda was silent then, as she scribbled the essential details of the encounter with Meyers on to the paper. "I'm not committed to this report. It's going to be dreadfully generic. I apologize in advance to whoever in IA gets it."

"I'm sure they'll forgive you, all things considered, Brenda. We're not all heartless automatons. That's just me." Sharon replied wryly.

"Hush. You're not an automaton. Automatons don't have temper-fits." Brenda retorted, biting back a chuckle.

"I do not have temper fits, Chief Johnson." Sharon exclaimed hotly, then laughed. "Okay. Maybe I have a temper. But I don't have temper-fits." She conceded, rolling her eyes.

"Mmmm-hmmm." Brenda finished jotting down the names of all of the people she could remember, who'd been on the scene. She signed and dated the report, and then turned her attention back to the conversation at hand.

"Captain. I'm going to bring this down to IA, okay?" She asked, throwing her pen back in her desk drawer, and slamming it shut, ignoring the fact that she still had only Twizzlers in her stash.

"Of course, Chief. I'll be here to take it in person." Sharon hung up the phone, and stood, straightening her jacket, and fluffing her hair out from her scalp, so that it rained over her shoulders and down her back in thick waves. Then she removed her jacket entirely, and rolled her sleeves up three quarters of the way. She sat back down, and grabbed a pen, leaning over the paperwork she'd ignored while she'd been entranced with Brenda's voice over the phone. Inwardly, she mocked herself for all of the preening. Despite the passion she'd felt from Brenda in the stairwell, the reality was, she was nominating her for Chief. The reality was, Brenda was married. The reality was, Brenda was her superior officer. The reality was, there was no way they could continue down this path of madness without it ending terribly for one or both of them. She should be strong enough to stop, to end it, but she couldn't help the coil of anticipation that sprang up in her stomach when the door to FID opened, and Brenda sailed through, smiling widely.

"I knew you'd be down here by yourself." Brenda remarked cheekily, as she dropped the folder containing her report on Sharon's desk.

"Yes, well, I had my own paperwork to finish, as you know, and we were rather late in getting back from the scene, so, here I am." Sharon replied, sitting back in her chair and rolling her shoulders, ignoring the encroaching headache.

Brenda started to say something, but lost her train of thought as she watched Sharon's movements. Everything in her wanted to reach out and touch the dark haired woman. The moment in the stairwell hadn't been long enough, and Brenda hated herself for stopping it, for hurting Sharon even slightly. She stood for a moment, next to the chair she'd meant to plop down in, and then walked around behind the Captain, and placed her hands gently on her shoulders, holding them still for a moment, before beginning a tender massaging motion. She felt her heart thud into double-time, as the heat from the other woman's body seared her palms through the fabric of her shirt. She was aware of the thin straps of Sharon's bra beneath her hands, and Brenda swallowed a sigh as the mental image of a shirtless Captain popped unbidden into her mind.

Sharon knew she should protest. She knew that this was her chance to make things right, to end this outrageous flirtation once and for all, before things were irrevocably damaged. She opened her mouth, determined to be the strong one, determined to say the words that were fully formed in her brain, about duty, responsibilities, and the right thing, but all that came out was a low moan of pleasure as Brenda's skilled fingers worked out a particularly impressive knot in her left shoulder.

Brenda felt a flood of heat through her belly at the sound of Sharon moaning at her touch. Even though it wasn't a sexual noise, it triggered something inside Brenda, a primal sort of instinct to evoke other, louder noises, by touching the woman in other, more intimate ways. She blinked, trying to remember that her motivation for doing this was to relieve some of the stress the Captain was carrying. After all, at least part of it was her own fault, for facing down a crazy INS agent, and then throwing herself at Sharon in the stairwell. It wasn't much wonder the woman had knots the size of large marbles. She continued massaging, smoothing her fingers firmly over each knot, working the tension out, and feeling the stone of a woman melt beneath her hands. She felt like she could keep this up forever, which surprised her, because since the beginning, she'd never had much patience for rubbing Fritz's shoulders, resenting the minutes she could've spent doing other things. The thought of Fritz brought her up short, and her hands stilled briefly, as she thought about him, waiting for her at home. She knew what she needed to do. She knew, and she knew it was the right thing, for all of them. She knew that it was the only way to make things right. But she dreaded taking her hands away from the soft warmth of the Captain. So she let her fingers drift, grazing the collarbones she'd found so enticing earlier.

Sharon felt her hesitation, and tried to clear her head so that she could speak, and then she felt those delicate fingers sweep softly beneath her throat, sending flares of desire straight to her core. She closed her eyes, hating herself for her weakness. She wanted Brenda. If she was being honest with herself -and under the blond woman's skillful touch, it seemed she could only be honest with herself- she wanted more than a stolen moment in a stairwell. More than just the brief touches in elevators and cars. She wanted her in her bed, sprawled wanton across her sheets, blond hair spilled over her pillows, gasping at her touch. If she was being honest with herself, she wanted her in her bed as the sun rose, their limbs tangled in sleep. If she was being honest with herself, she wanted her at the breakfast table in the morning, sipping coffee, and most likely leaving the cup on the table as she rushed off to work. If she was being honest, she wanted her in the evenings, curled up on the end of the couch, full lips in a pout as she complained about Will Pope, or Commander Taylor. Sharon knew, as she was being honest now, that she was in love with Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson. She knew it as clearly as she knew her own name. And so she kept her mouth closed. Kept all the words inside, and just leaned into the gentle caresses.

Brenda ran her fingers lightly up Sharon's throat, rubbing her thumbs along her jaw, feeling the tension there, as though she were trying not to speak. She let her fingers trace the furrow in the Captain's brow, trying to smooth it away, hoping her touch wasn't the cause of it. She moved her hands back to Sharon's shoulders, then gripped the back of her chair, spinning her around so that they were facing each other. Sharon had her eyes closed, but as the chair turned, they flew open, and Brenda noticed how they had little flecks of gold in them, that they weren't entirely green, as she'd thought originally.

"You have beautiful eyes, Sharon." She said, putting her hands on the arm of the chair and leaning down.

"Thank you." Sharon blushed, and dropped her gaze.

"Listen. I um, I said some things, before. I wanted to ask-" Brenda began, but faltered, hating not knowing the answers to the question she desperately wanted to ask.

"Don't. Just, don't, Chief. It's okay. I understand. And I think you're right." Sharon felt her heart shatter, hearing the unspoken good-bye on Brenda's lips.

"Right? About what?" Brenda tipped her head to the side, puzzled.

"That we shouldn't do-"

"Hush. I didn't say that. I wouldn't say that. I have some things to take care of, and I need to do that first, but this? Us? I can't just walk away, unless that's what you want, Sharon. If you want me to go home, and pretend like none of _this," _she gestured at the space between them, "ever happened, then I will. It'll be hard. It'll be the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I would do it, for you, if that's what you wanted. If it's not, then I have to ask you to trust me, and to give me a little bit of time, to make things right for everybody. I've messed things up pretty good, but I think I can fix them. I just need a little time, Captain." Brenda finished her thoughts in a rush, steeling herself for the rejection she was sure was coming.

"You can't...walk away? From us?" Sharon spoke each word slowly, as though she wasn't sure they'd been said in the proper order.

"No. I can't." Brenda straightened, taking a step back.

"Brenda..." Sharon's voice was a whisper as she stood, closing the distance between them.

Brenda felt Sharon's lips on hers, and her heart skidded into overtime. This wasn't the rejection she'd been expecting. She wrapped her arms around the Captain's neck, knotting her fingers in her hair, and deepened this kiss, as the sweet citrus smell blossomed around her.

All too soon, Sharon pulled back. She smiled, that beautiful, radiant smile, and then her face fell. Brenda arched an eyebrow, wondering what had cut that smile short.

"Cap'n?" She asked nervously.

"Well. Before we go any further. That thing that I needed to speak with you about tomorrow? I should probably tell you now. It would be better if I told you now." Sharon looked down, knowing that this was going to end explosively.

"All right. What's on your mind?" Brenda couldn't keep the suspicious note out of her voice.

Sharon reached down, and opened her desk drawer, pulling out a manila folder.

"You'll be pleased to know, I finished my investigation." She began.

"Oh, you finished the background check on Chief Pope?" Brenda asked, relieved that this wasn't about her, or them, after all.

"I never said I was doing a background check, on Chief Pope." Sharon reminded her, smiling stiffly. "As the LAPD's Women's Coordinator, I am on the search committee for our new boss. The mayor and the police commission want a strong, female candidate in the mix. You are the highest ranking woman now, in the department, so..." Sharon trailed off, holding out the folder as an explanation.

"What's this?" Brenda asked, the suspicious tone back, her eyes never leaving Sharon's.

"It's an application. For the Chief of the LAPD. All candidates need to get one in within the next two weeks." Sharon answered smoothly, sitting back down at her desk.

Brenda pulled her glasses on, and flipped through the pages. She glanced at Sharon, her eyes narrowed.

"I see it's already been filled out." Brenda leveled her gaze at Sharon.

"All it need is your signature." Sharon replied, fetching her purse from her drawer, and standing up, beginning to walk towards the door, hoping to avoid the blow up.

"From our conversations, I gather that you are still very close with Chief Pope. I do hope that this incredible opportunity doesn't cause any friction, between the two of you." Sharon continued, even as she walked away.

Brenda watched her departure, not speaking.

Sharon opened the door, and then turned back to Brenda, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

"Two weeks, Chief Johnson." She said softly, then stepped out, leaving Brenda speechless in her wake.

Brenda stared down at the folder in her hands, and wondered why the words were so hard to read. Then she realized her hands were trembling. She snapped the folder closed, and shoved it into her tote, fishing out her car keys before shouldering the over-sized bag.

"Chief of Police. _OH! That WOMAN!_" She whispered, as she walked to her car, shaking her head.


	15. Chapter 15

Brenda walked into the house, and gently laid her purse on the table, stepping out of her heels. She saw Fritz, asleep sitting up on the couch, his face relaxed as he dozed. She looked at him, wondering how it had come to this. She crept past him, and quietly went upstairs, climbing into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the lingering scent of citrus, wanting to be able to talk to Fritz with a clear head. Stepping out of the shower, she dried her body, and then wrapped her long blond hair in the towel, twisting it up turban style, before slipping on a pair of old sweatpants, and an LAPD ACADEMY tee shirt. She went back downstairs, and found Fritz awake.

"Brenda." His voice was rough with sleep, and he stood, moving to her and wrapping his arms around her. She hugged him back, tightly, knowing she was going to break his heart, and hoping to hold him together.

"Fritzi. We need to talk." Her voice sounded muffled, as she spoke against his chest. She closed her eyes, hoping he'd understand.

He moved his hands to the tops of her arms, and held her back, looking intently at her face.

"Brenda Leigh. I almost lost you tonight. I don't think we need to talk anymore." He folded her against him again, tucking her head beneath his chin.

"Yes, we do Fritz. Or at least, I need to talk." She pressed the flat of her palms against his chest, creating a little space between them.

"Okay. Let's do it over dinner, then. How bout that little Italian place?" He suggested, smiling.

"No. We have leftovers, let's eat here. I'd rather not go out." Brenda frowned, hoping he wouldn't push the issue.

"Of course. Of course. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, Bren, I'm sorry." Fritz started walking towards the kitchen, and Brenda followed close behind.

They moved awkwardly around one another, their movements never quite syncing up, and eventually, Brenda just sat down and let Fritz to the prep work, afraid of creating a hostile atmosphere before she'd said the difficult things she needed to say. She watched him, his movements all tight efficiency. He wasted no energy as he gathered the plates and cups, the silverware and napkins. He portioned out food, his keen sniper's eye apparently lent itself well to equitable distribution, and as he laid the table out, she wondered how she'd never noticed this before.

They ate quietly for a while, Brenda mostly moved the food around her plate, not really having the appetite she should have, after the day she'd had, and the evening she had yet to begin. Finally, she decided it was best to get it over with sooner, rather than later, because she still had work in the morning.

"Fritz. About your promotion," she began, pushing her plate away."I think you should take it."

His eyes widened, as he stared at her.

"You think I should take the promotion?" He repeated, incredulously.

"Yes. I think it's a great move for you, and you deserve it. You're a brilliant agent, the FBI knows that, and it's high time they put your brilliance to a better use than being my nanny at the LAPD, right? So yes. I think you should take it." She replied, nodding. Then she looked down, adding, "But I won't be coming with you."

"What?" He cried, his hands falling to his lap with a soft thump. "You can't be serious? I saw my life tonight, I saw the idea of it without you, and it almost killed me, Brenda Leigh. Seeing you, in front of that lunatic? It set my priorities. And you want me to just, what, ignore that? Put my career ahead of you, and we'll have a long distance relationship? See each other every few months? That's insanity, Brenda, and you know it!" His voice was thick with anger.

"No, Fritz. I don't want you to put your career ahead of me. Look, I had a chance to realize my priorities as well. And when you shot that man, I know you saved me. By all rights, I owe you my life, but Fritz, I can't give you my life. I won't. I also won't hold you back from yours. I won't ask you to give your life to me, so that I can stay here and live my dreams, while you ignore yours. I love you, Fritz, I do. But tonight...you said to me, that I could never do that again. I assume you meant put myself in danger, put myself in a situation where I might get myself killed. But I'm a police officer, and that's my job. I can't make that promise. I put myself in danger every day, but it just so happened that tonight, you were there, because I needed your FBI credentials. That wasn't fair to you. I know how...protective you feel towards me. I shouldn't have put you in a situation where you'd have to take a life to save mine, and I'm so, so sorry." Brenda trailed off, feeling unsure of how to continue.

"Brenda. I love you. I want to be with you. I don't want to go away from you." Fritz said simply.

"Fritz, I...," Brenda hesitated, not wanting to make it about feelings, not wanting to hurt him any more than she had to. She took a deep breath. "I can't be the reason you wake up miserable in 5 years, hating your job, and cursing your life. I won't be that reason. I know how much you want this promotion. I have the broken tea cup to prove it, and I won't stand in your way. I can't go with you, though. Because I don't want you to be the reason I wake up 5 years from now, hating my life." She jumped up, and ran into the living room, leaving him sitting stunned behind her. A moment later, she was back, carrying a manila folder. She laid it next to his plate, and sat down again.

"What's this?" He asked hollowly, not looking at it.

"It's an application." She answered honestly, then continued. "For Chief of the LAPD. That's apparently why the last few days have given me the pleasure of so much of Capt'n Raydor's company. They want a strong female candidate in the mix. And I'm the highest ranking female officer right now, so...they want me to throw my hat in the ring." She sat back, picking up her glass of water, and taking a sip.

"The _Chief. Of the Los Angeles Police Department?_" Fritz looked at Brenda, the folder held loosely in his hand. He flipped it open, as if to verify the contents, to make sure she wasn't teasing him with some wretched joke.

"This isn't your handwriting." He said flatly, looking at the paper.

"No, Sh—ahh, Captain Raydor filled it out before she gave it to me. All I have to do is sign it, and turn it in within the next 2 weeks." Brenda kicked herself for almost slipping and calling the Captain by her first name.

"Sharon, now, is it?" Fritz raised an eyebrow, wondering when the animosity between the two women had become a first name basis.

"Well, she's been around a lot, lately." Brenda replied defensively, cursing his FBI awareness.

"Mmm." He murmured, noncommittally, still looking at the application. "Why did she fill it out for you?"

"Uh, well. It may be common knowledge around the Department, how much I loathe paperwork." Brenda chuckled mirthlessly.

"So you really want to be the Chief of Police? Meet with the Mayor, shake hands, play politics all day?" Fritz looked skeptical.

"I really want to try. I think I owe it to myself, and to the women of the LAPD, to at least give it a fair shake. I don't want to look back and wonder." She ran her finger absently around the rim of her glass.

"Aren't you worried," Fritz's voice broke, and he cleared his throat before continuing, "that you'll look back and wonder about us, if I go? Or does our marriage mean so little in comparison?" His gaze was fixed on a point beyond Brenda's shoulder, unblinking.

"Fritz. I love you. Our time together? These last few years have been, wonderful. Everything I could've asked for in a marriage. But I'm not just a wife. I'm an officer, and I realized tonight, on the scene, that I'm an officer first, Fritz, and I don't think you and I will ever get past that, because you want me to be your wife first. Maybe if we'd met when I was younger, I could've thrown myself into marriage the way I threw myself into the job. But I know my own mind Fritz, and tonight, I realized, I can't possibly be the woman you want me to be. I don't want to be the mother of your children, I don't want to move to Washington DC and hobnob with FBI elites. I want to stay in the city that I love, in a job that I love, and protect and serve like I swore to do. I wish I could do both. I wish that my feelings for you were what you deserve. But I just can't be that woman. I can't. And you deserve a chance to find someone who can." Finally the tears spilled over, and Brenda sniffed furiously, wiping them away with her sleeve.

"So that's it. I save your life, realize I can't live without you, and you realize you can't live with me. I gotta say, this isn't exactly what I had in mind when I took the Liaison position with your Department, Brenda Leigh. " Fritz snorted, no humor in his eyes.

"Don't be like that, Fritz. That's not how it was. I just—I have to do what's best for all of us, don't I?" Brenda bit her lip, looking down.

"All of us, meaning, you? Because you seem to be making some pretty fierce assumptions on me, and what I want out of life." Fritz's voice took on a bitter edge. "Or maybe now you're the mind reader."

"That's not fair, and you know it. You've said yourself you want a family. You've made it clear that you'd like to settle into a nice, suburban routine. I can't give you that. I cannot. I don't want what you want Fritz, and I'm not sure I ever did. You were so kind to me, such a gentleman. I needed that, and I let myself think that it didn't matter that we wanted different things, because as long as we loved each other, that'd be enough. But it's not. I saw that this morning, I saw it in your eyes, and I saw it shattered on the floor. We can't fix this. And if we try, we're only going to end up bleeding." Brenda got up, and walked to the sink, unable to face him as she lied.

"Okay. Okay. You win. I'll go stay at a motel tonight, and I'll be out of here by the time you're due home from work tomorrow. We'll give being separated a shot. You can see how much a part of you I've become, by seeing the holes where I should be." Fritz shoved his chair back from the table, and stalked out of the kitchen, leaving Brenda leaning against the sink, watching her tears fall on the breakfast dishes.

A while later, Brenda had lost track of time, she heard the front door slam, then heard the sound of Fritz's SUV pulling out of the driveway. She looked at the dishes on the table, and decided she'd clean the up tomorrow. She dragged herself up the stairs, and stopped. Turning away from the bedroom she'd shared with Fritz, she walked into the guest bedroom, and sat down on the edge of the bed. She stared at the pattern on the rug until her eyes swam, and then she curled up on top of the covers, and tried to sleep. His angry words, the hurt in his eyes, they swirled around in her brain, a miasma of guilt. She knew that this was for the best, that it would hurt him less if he thought it was her job that had come between them, rather than another person. A woman.

Brenda rolled over, pulling the edge of the comforter around her shoulders. She couldn't possibly have it all. If she became Chief of Police, having an affair with a subordinate officer would be completely out of the question. Sharon had to know that. But still, even after everything, she'd given Brenda the application. Did that mean she'd rather have Brenda as a boss, than as...whatever they were doing? A possible lover? Brenda blinked. She glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, and was surprised to find it was only 10 pm. It felt so much later. The conversation with Fritz had only taken an hour, though it had seemed to go on for much longer, Brenda realized. She stood up, and flipped the covers back, and climbed into the bed, burrowing deep under the blankets. She sighed, knowing that sleep was hours away, but not wanting to spend time prowling the house that now felt too empty, she was reticent to get out of bed. She knew she should feel more sadness about the end of her marriage. Fritz could call it a separation if he wanted, but she knew it was over. She'd seen the flat black of his eyes as he'd strode out of the kitchen, his legs stiff. He'd never forgive her for this. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't fix things. She smiled wryly. It was fortunate, then, that she didn't want to fix things.

An hour later, according to the glowing red numbers that mocked her, Brenda got up, and went into the bathroom where she'd taken her shower. She flipped open the hamper, and grabbed the blouse she'd been wearing. She held it to her nose, and took a small sniff. Immediately, the scent of oranges filled her nose. Brenda grinned, and wandered back to the guest room. She crawled underneath the covers, and held the shirt against her, letting the citrus perfume envelop her. She thought of Sharon, and how twice, she'd thought Brenda was giving her the brush off. Clearly, though it seemed to Brenda that her feelings may as well have been scrawled in day-glo marker across her forehead, she was doing a better job at controlling herself than she realized. She chuckled inwardly at that. Because kissing a subordinate officer in the stairway, after groping them outside of a suspects house was a fine example of control. She wondered what she'd have to do to make it obvious to Sharon, without giving it away to the entire department. She wondered what she'd do if Sharon didn't love her back. Brenda blinked at that thought, then laughed out loud. Loved her back. Because, apparently, Brenda, at some point unbeknownst to herself, had fallen in love with that woman. Of all the ridiculous, ironic plot twists. Burying her face in the shirt, she breathed in the Captain's scent, and grinned. Brenda Leigh Johnson was in love with Sharon Raydor.


	16. Chapter 16

The phone rang, pulling Brenda out of sleep. Disoriented, she lifted her arm to reach across Fritz, and reality came crashing down on her. She snatched her phone off the table, and slid it open, holding it to her ear.

"Deputy Chief Johnson." She said, her voice raspy with sleep.

"Chief, I'm so sorry to wake you. We've got a case." The voice of Lt. Tao came crisply across the line.

"That's all right Lieutenant, tell me what you know." Brenda cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder, as she sat up, peering at the clock. Four in the morning. Fantastic.

"Well, it seems that there was an attempted robbery at a restaurant, a small family owned place. The daughter of the owner was killed. There was another employee, a friend of the family, who witnessed the attack through the window in the kitchen door. There was an officer in the mini-mart next door, he heard the gunshot, and pursued the suspects, advising the armed one to drop his weapon. Suspect fired on the officer, the officer returned fire, shooting to wound. The other suspect escaped on foot. FID is on it's way as well, so we thought you'd want to get here first, before the Wicked Witch." Lt. Tao ended with a small chuckle.

Brenda was pulling on a skirt, and she pressed her lips together, remembering how she'd allowed her team to disrespect the Captain. It seemed her judgment was always off when it came to that woman. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the conversation.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, I'm on my way. I'll be there shortly. Tell the rest of the team that if Sh..if Captain Raydor gets there, to allow her and her team full access, just ask them not to remove any evidence til I arrive. I'm sure she'll agree. We've come to an...an understanding, over the last few days." Brenda finished buttoning the last few buttons on her shirt, and slid the phone closed with a snap.

Less than 20 minutes later, she pulled up to the address, and found Lt. Flynn waiting for her, with his arms crossed.

"Chief. FID is here. They're not touching anything, but they're in our way. Can't you get rid of them?" He asked, sullenly.

"No, Lieutenant, an officer fired his weapon on this scene, and he didn't kill the suspect. We need to proceed with caution, and FID is here to make sure that our case isn't screwed up because of an excessive use of force suit. I'm actually glad to see them." Brenda quirked her lips at the double meaning of her last sentence, knowing that Flynn would view it as an exasperated smirk.

"All right. But _she _brought Sgt. Elliot with her. And I hate that kid. He's so smug, I just want to punch him." Flynn huffed.

"I know, Lieutenant. Try to keep in under control, for my sake?" Brenda let her southern drawl escape in full force, knowing that it was like kryptonite to the older men on her team.

"Sure thing, Chief." Flynn gave her a tight smile, and then gestured at the restaurant.

Brenda donned the paper shoe coverings and gloves that were set up outside the scene, and pushed the door open, causing the string of silver bells to tinkle. There were tables with the chairs upended, the restaurant had clearly been closed, and the floor had been mopped. Brenda stepped further in, circling the counter, noting that the register wasn't damaged. Near the door of the kitchen, a young woman lay crumpled in a pool of blood, her eyes sightlessly fixed on Brenda, a soundless scream on her lips. Brenda noted that she was maybe 25, if that. So young. She turned, looking for the medical examiner, unable to keep facing the dead girl, and was startled to see the Captain standing near the corner of the counter, a tender look in her eye.

"You okay, Chief?" She asked, stepping forward, putting her hand on the blond woman's arm.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm fine. She was just so young." Brenda used the back of her hand to shove her hair out of her face, and smiled at the Captain. "Thank you, by the way, for not wandering off with my evidence. I appreciate that, and it has certainly endeared you to my team." Brenda chuckled.

"Yes. Well I'm not really worried about my standing with your team, but you're welcome. I've already spoken to the officer, so he's all yours. I thought I'd let you have first run at the suspect, though." Sharon dropped her hand from Brenda's arm, and stepped back.

"Thank you. That's very..thoughtful of you, Cap'n. I appreciate it." Brenda saw the ME coming out of the kitchen, and flagged him down.

"What can you tell me, doc?" She asked, turning her gaze back to the dead girl on the ground as the ME crouched next to her.

"Well, she was shot, point blank range, the casings imply a 9mm, but the bullet is lodged, no exit wound. She's been dead less than 3 hours, judging from the body temp. No defensive wounds, so likely nothing for DNA. Looks like she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We'll know more when we get her to Morales." The young man stood, wincing as his knees made an audible pop.

"Thank you," she turned to the Captain, and gestured to the body, "Captain, are you done with the victim?"

"Yes, Chief. He can take her now." Sharon leaned against the counter, and Brenda went to stand next to her, letting their arms touch, as the coroner's team cleared the body away.

Once the restaurant was empty, Sharon turned to Brenda, a concerned look in her eye.

"You've been crying." It wasn't a question, but Brenda heard the worry behind her words.

"I had to do something very difficult tonight. And even though I know it was the right thing to do, it was still painful. Did you know that Fritz was offered a promotion at the FBI? An executive position, in DC." Brenda looked at the floor, unused to the level of scrutiny she was receiving, unsure of how to deal with it.

"Oh. Well tell him I said congratulations. I'm sure you'll be able to go back to the Washington PD, of course." Sharon stepped back, her voice going cold.

"Sharon." Brenda stepped forward, reaching out to take the Captain's hands in her own. "I'm not going with him. I told him to take the promotion, but that I needed to stay here, in L.A." Brenda squeezed Sharon's hands before letting them drop.

Sharon looked at her for a long moment, her expression neutral.

"You told him to go. Without you." She repeated, slowly.

"Yes. I did. I realized that he and I wanted different things, and that those differences, they weren't the kind you could work through. I'm never going to not be a police officer. That's who I am, at my core. This job is as much a part of my identity as being blond, or female. He wanted me to be a wife first, to not take chances, in case we decided to have kids some day. I can't—that's not me. I can't be what he needs, and I don't think I care to continue trying."

Brenda told Sharon the same thing she told Fritz. She felt all the words she hadn't said to either of them, laying thick on her tongue. That she couldn't go with Fritz. That she couldn't walk away from the woman in front of her, not without leaving her heart behind. That even if Fritz hadn't gotten the promotion, and given her a perfect excuse, she still would've woken up in the guest room at 4 am, when this case dropped, because she couldn't bear the idea of touching him when all she wanted was to touch the Captain. No, those were words she swallowed back, letting them settle in her chest, all angles and sharp parts.

Sharon held her gaze for a beat longer, and then she let a small smile escape. She stepped closer to Brenda, putting a hand on the blond woman's waist.

"Well. In that case," she began, and then leaned in, so her lips brushed the shell of Brenda's ear, "I suppose I should be sending him my consolations, rather than my congratulations." She leaned away, the smile no longer on her face. She moved her hand to Brenda's shoulder, and gave her a lingering once over.

"Are you okay? Did he handle it well?" She asked, remembering that Fritz had a temper.

"Oh. It was fine. He left. The whole conversation took less than an hour, you know? It's amazing how fast you can destroy years worth of commitment. But he thinks I'll come around. He thinks I depend on him, and that I'll see how empty my life is without him, and I'll need him to come home and fill the spaces he left behind. Whatever. It's fine. I'll be fine, and so will he, with some time. Now, let's go talk to the witness, I think we've left him stewing long enough." Brenda smiled tightly, hating how uncomfortable the whole conversation made her feel.

Sharon could sense the tension building, so she just nodded, and spun on her heel, moving towards the door. She'd just stepped onto the worn red skid-mat in front of the door, when something glinted in the light to her left, catching her eye. She turned, and crouched, peering at the small object. Brenda stepped into place next to her, and bent low to look. There, underneath a rack for a free newspaper, was a shell casing that hadn't been circled and tagged.

"I thought the scene was cleared?" Brenda wondered aloud.

"So did I, Chief. But this doesn't match the others. And see here? There's dust around it, I think it's older. Maybe this isn't the first violence perpetrated in this establishment? " She gestured to the casing, not touching it, and Brenda crouched down on her heels to get a better look. Sharon forgot to breathe for a moment, as the Chief's skirt slipped, exposing her thigh more than midway. She cleared her throat, and forced her gaze back to the shell casing, knowing that it was only going to get more difficult from here on out. Sharon had been counting on Brenda's marriage, and her good Southern sensibilities to keep them from stepping too far over the line. But Brenda had left Fritz. Had she done it for Sharon? The Captain snorted to herself. A month long flirtation was hardly grounds for divorce, especially in Los Angeles. There must've been another catalyst. Something else that pushed her over the edge. Sharon put her hands on her knees, and shoved up from the ground, then offered the Chief her hand. Brenda glanced up, and grinned, taking the dark haired woman's hand, and using it to steady herself as she stood.

"Thanks. I don't know what I was thinkin', wearing a skirt at 4 in the morning." She laughed, knowing exactly what she'd been thinking, of those slender fingers tracing ever upward beneath the hem, of Sharon's face as she slid the fabric out of her way. Her face flushed, and she took a step back from the Captain.

"I'll send the Scene team back in here, and have them bag and tag that casing. It's probably unrelated, but just in case, I'd prefer to have it on hand, should FID need it." Sharon kept her tone professional, and turned to hold the door open for the Chief. The two women walked outside, and each found herself accosted by a member of her respective team.


	17. Chapter 17

By 9:30 that morning, Brenda was exhausted. She sat at her desk, looking over the witness statements, knowing that something was off, but her brain wouldn't cooperate. She decided she needed a cup of coffee, and grabbed her mug, headed for the small kitchenette in the building. She'd just put a fresh pot on, when she heard the unmistakable sound of pumps clipping across the lino. She smiled, then quickly pasted a neutral expression on her face, turning to greet the Captain, leaning against the counter. Sharon looked as worn out as Brenda felt, her lush hair pulled up in a messy up-do, a few tendrils curling down around her shoulders, framing her face. She stopped when she saw the Chief, then let her trade-mark smirk ghost across her features.

"Fancy meeting you here." She said, her voice huskier than usual, thanks to the lack of sleep.

"Hmm. It does beg the question, Cap'n, what a nice girl like you, is doing in a place like this." Brenda felt slightly punch drunk, and she cursed the slow-drip coffee machine. No chocolate, and no caffeine, and a day sharing an investigation with Sharon Raydor, with her feelings all out of control seemed like a spot of terrible planning.

Sharon laughed, a low, throaty chuckle, then nodded towards the coffee pot.

"Great minds, it seems, think alike." She moved to stand in front of Brenda, so close she could feel the heat radiating out from her body. She leaned in, leaving just a whisper of space between them, and reached slowly over Brenda's head, snagging a generic blue coffee mug from the cabinet above the counter. She stepped back, moving to the sink to rinse the mug off, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

Brenda was grateful for the counter, letting it hold the weight her shaking knees refused to support. She could feel her body thrumming from that almost-contact, a swirling mist of desire sweeping through her limbs. She closed her eyes, blocking out the Captain, in her red button-down sweater, her tailored, wide-legged black trousers. But Sharon's image blazed behind her eyelids, giving her no escape from her feelings. She slowly opened her eyes, meeting an unblinking green gaze.

"Have you given any thought to last night?" Sharon asked, as she grabbed the pot of coffee and poured some into Brenda's mug first, then filling her own.

"Have I thought about.." Brenda trailed off, still trying to calm herself down.

"The application. For chief. I know you've had other things to contend with, I was just wondering." Sharon slid the sugar bowl across the counter.

"Oh. Oh that. I uh, I have thought about it, yes. I don't know that I—that is to say, I'm not sure if it's.." this time, her words faltered as she reached out for the sugar bowl, and felt her fingertips against the Captain's. She bit her lower lip, hoping to hold back the flood of heat with pain, but failing.

"I had no idea you were so...articulate, this early in the morning." Sharon chortled, as she watched Brenda struggle for her words. "I am astonished by your sesquipedalian nature."

"My sesqui-what?" Brenda was beginning to feel a flash of the old ire rising in the face of the dark haired woman's teasing.

"It means your love of big words." This time, Sharon couldn't hide the smirk, and suddenly Brenda was much closer than she'd been a moment ago.

"I'll tell you what, Cap'n. I'll leave the big words to you, but you can go ahead and talk to yourself, how's that?" Brenda moved to turn, and walk out, but Sharon caught her around the waist, the heat from her hand searing through the thin silk of Brenda's shirt. Brenda inhaled sharply, and looked at Sharon.

"I'm sorry, Chief. I was just having a little fun. I've already had some coffee this morning, so my mastery of language has already been given it's essential AM jolt." Sharon kept her hand on Brenda's waist, too enthralled by the warmth of the woman beneath the cool fabric of the shirt to let it go. They were standing close, too close. Brenda realized the scent of coffee had been completely over-taken by that sharp citrus tang. She looked at the gentle curve of Sharon's lower lip, remembering how deftly the woman kissed, the dark chocolate flavor of her mouth. She suddenly realized they were still in the kitchenette at the office, and anyone could've walked in. She fairly jumped back, her heart pounding, and she tried to give a composed smile, but it didn't quite make it to her eyes, which were dark and flashing with desire. Sharon swallowed hard, and laid her hand on the cool counter-top.

"I know, Cap'n, that you were teasing. I just don't have a sense of humor before 11:30 am, is all." Brenda managed to say this with a straight face, but failed to keep a hint of mirth out of her voice.

Sharon smiled then, and raised her cup in a mock salute.

"I'll keep that in mind. Are you going to interview the owner of the restaurant this afternoon?" The Captain was back to business again.

"Yes, we're probably heading over there around lunchtime. Well, I am, anyway. I'm not sure who I'm taking along yet, most of my team is still out canvassing the neighborhood. Hopefully Detective Gabriel will be back by then." Brenda frowned, grateful at least that the notification part had already been handled.

"I have to speak with him as well. I could ride with you, if your team hasn't returned by the time you're ready to go." Sharon's voice was deliberately professional.

"All right. We can do that. But.." Brenda blinked, considering her words carefully, "maybe we should do the interviewing separately. Just so there's nothing affecting the integrity of either case, of course." She looked at Sharon, hoping her words didn't reveal her unspoken reticence to share witnesses with Captain Raydor. Because although her personal feelings for that woman had bloomed into something all encompassing and unexpectedly wonderful, professionally, she still guarded her cases with all the ferocity of a hungry pit bull.

Sharon smirked, knowing that this was less about integrity, and more about the Chief's total inability to share.

"That's fine. You can even go first." She grinned at Brenda's expression of surprise.

"Well. All right. I'll give you a call around 11:30, sound good?" Brenda took a deep breath, knowing her head would swim with the lingering tang of oranges, but wanting to carry it with her.

"Yes. I'll talk to you then." Sharon headed for the door, feeling the heat of Brenda's gaze as she left.

Back at her desk, Brenda sipped her coffee, and tried not to think of the way that sweater had hugged the Captain in all the right places. How the scoop of the neck had exposed more than usual, letting Brenda's imagination run wild. This posed a small problem, Brenda realized. She had no practical experience to draw from. She'd never had feelings for a woman before, and she'd never gone through the experimental phase that people seemed to chalk up as par for the course in college. She hoped that her familiarity with her own body would give her a starting point, if she needed that information. From the way Sharon had been acting in the kitchenette, it seemed as though the interest was still mutual. So maybe the application for Chief wasn't a gentle let down after all. Brenda set her mug down with a thud, and scowled fiercely at her desk. She had a case to solve. The rest of...this, would have to wait until later.

Sharon listened to her team filling her in on their progress since the OIS last night. Or at least, she tried to listen. She realized that Sgt. Elliott was staring at her expectantly.

"Sorry, Sargent? I missed the last bit of what you said." Sharon said evenly.

"I was just saying that, I think our case is pretty well wrapped up. The officer involved acted appropriately given the circumstances, so it shouldn't be much more than a paperwork case from here on out." The Sargent smiled, and tossed the folder he'd been referencing on her desk.

"Yes. Well. I'd still like to speak with the owner of the establishment, as well as the owner of the mini-mart that the officer was in, before we rubber stamp this one as solved." Sharon couldn't put her finger on why, but something about this case was giving her an odd feeling. That's partly why she'd volunteered to ride along with Brenda. Despite her flagrant disregard for rules and regulations, the Chief had a gift for ferreting out the truth of the matter, and Sharon was counting on those exceptional interrogation techniques to give her an idea of what was triggering her Spidey sense.

"Okay. Sargent Elliot, if you could, take a walk around the neighborhood where the shooting occurred. See if our Officer Taggart was a regular in that area, or if his appearance there last night was an anomaly. Lieutenant Daniels, if you could check our archives, make sure that Taggart doesn't have any other pending FI's, also, if he has closed ones, I'd like to see those as well." Sharon slid the folder that Elliot had tossed on her desk under her arm, and stood up. She smiled at her team, nodding as they went about their various tasks, and then she left the room, taking the elevator up to Major Crimes.

Brenda was frowning at a life insurance policy as though it had personally offended her, when a knock sounded at her door. She looked up, and felt the now familiar tightening in her belly at the sight of the Captain standing there.

"Hi there. Come on in." She said, gesturing towards a chair.

"Thanks. Listen, Chief. I was wondering, if your team had run the financials on both the owner of the restaurant, and the employee who witnessed the shooting? If so, I'd very much like to see the results of that inquiry." Sharon had settled into the chair across from Brenda's desk, crossing her long legs in front of her.

"I believe Lieutenant Tao was taking care of that this morning." Brenda picked up her handset, and dialed Tao's extension.

"Lt. Tao? Yes, I was wondering if you'd gotten the results of the financial inquiries into our primaries?" Brenda listened, leaning her chin in her hand. "Okay. Right. Well, can you bring me what you have so far? I'll get the rest as it comes in, but a start's a start, right? Mmm-hmm. Thank you, Lieutenant. Bye now." Brenda hung up the phone, and looked back at Sharon.

"He's bringing it over. What's on your mind, Cap'n?" Brenda could almost see the gears turning behind the flashing green eyes. She knew the look of a Captain on a hunt, and this was certainly that look.

"I don't actually know, Chief. I just feel like, there's something I'm missing. That this was all too perfect, too by-the-book. Generally, an OIS is a tedious nightmare for FID. The tendency is for the officer to direct the narrative, to make themselves a hero, regardless of actual circumstances. Taggart was very matter-of-fact about the whole thing. And he shot to wound, not kill, which is rare in itself, especially when the suspect is also armed. I don't know what doesn't sit right with me, I just feel, unsettled by this particular shooting, and I would very much like to solve that mystery, before I close this file." Sharon braced herself, waiting for the indignant response sure to follow, about how FID was a danger to officers everywhere.

"You know, I'm glad you said that. I've been looking at it too, and there's something _wrong _ in this case. It's too easy. That's been what's bugging me. It's too easy. I don't trust it when it all falls into place like this." Brenda had leaned forward as she spoke, propping her elbows on her desk, and tenting her fingers.

Sharon was silent for a moment, surprised that they were thinking similarly. It was a rare moment when they were in sync professionally, the insane chemistry between them not withstanding. Sharon was a by-the-book sort of woman, and Brenda seemed to follow her own personal credo of 'don't question authority, because they don't know either', leaving a trail of bent and battered rules in her wake. Lt. Tao knocked on the door then, startling them both out of their thoughts.

"Here are the financials we've got so far. Thing is, these led us to another company, but it's starting to look like a non-existent franchise business. We're still trying to see how the officer is connected, if he is. The owner doesn't seem to be connected to the dummy company, but the employee is." The Lieutenant grinned, and handed the papers off to Sharon, who was standing nearest to the door. He turned to leave, but then came back in.

"Oh, one other thing. The reason the owner can't come down here, is because he's very ill. Terminal cancer. Pancreas. Can't leave the house. He's still lucid, though, so you can go to him." Tao nodded, satisfied that he'd relayed the essential info, then darted back into the Murder room, leaving the two women alone in Brenda's office.

Sharon looked at the file in her hand, and sensed the Chief's displeasure at not being the first to see the results. The Captain moved slowly around the desk, taking a steadying breath before stepping into place next to the Chief. She laid the folder down on the desk in front of them, and moved to flip it open. Brenda leaned forward, pulling her glasses from the collar of her shirt, and Sharon bit her lower lip as that movement gave her a peripheral glimpse at the brightly colored bra the Chief wore beneath her button down shirt.

"So, you're having your team run the officer as well?" Sharon kept her voice even, as she looked over the documents in front of them.

"Yes. Is that going to be a problem?" Brenda couldn't help sounding defensive.

"Not at all. In fact, it makes things easier for me, since I don't have to explain to my team why we're not just closing this case, and moving on. I don't have anything more than a feeling as to why this isn't open-and-shut, but mark my words...this is going to be messy by the end." Sharon turned a page, and closed her eyes tightly as the back of her arm brushed against the soft curves of the Chief, who was leaning over her shoulder. She heard the sharp intake of breath, as Brenda quickly straightened her posture.

"Well. Seems your hunches are usually spot-on, Cap'n." Brenda's voice was almost a purr.

"Indeed, Chief." Sharon kept her hands flat on the desk, her gaze on the paperwork, even as she felt familiar tightening in her belly. She was at a loss, now. Brenda was going to apply to be Chief. So this couldn't happen. But Sharon couldn't see any way out of it, standing this close to her, the gentle scent of her magnolia lotion filling her head, clouding her judgment. Brenda laid her hand on Sharon's shoulder, and leaned in again, letting the curve of her breast press into the Captain's back.

"Look at that," Brenda said, gesturing to a column of figures, "it looks like our star witness has been making regular payments to someone. Wonder who?"

Sharon took a deep breath, overly aware of where their bodies pressed together.

"I suspect the best way to find out, is to start talking to them. We should probably start with the owner," Sharon looked at her watch, continuing, "and it's close to the time you said you were leaving. Shall we?" Sharon moved away from the desk, and the indescribable heat of Brenda's body.

"Yes. Let me just tell Lt. Tao we're leaving, and we can be on our way." Brenda breathed deeply, trying to calm the storm of arousal brewing in her chest. She swept past the Captain, and found Lt. Tao at his desk.

"Captain Raydor needs to speak with the owner as well. So she's going to ride along with me, and take her interview after mine. We'll be back after that. I'll have my phone, if you come up with anything I need to know." Brenda shouldered her bag, and turned to Sharon.

"Let's go, then." Sharon started towards the elevator, her heart beating faster as she pondered an empty carriage.

They waited for the elevator, standing with careful space between them. The doors dinged open, and there stood Chief Pope. He held the door open for them, and watched as the Captain stood aside, and let the Chief go first. Raising an eyebrow at the unusual aura of peace and cooperation between them, he shrugged.

"Going down, ladies?" He asked, his hand hovering over the buttons.

"What? Oh. Yes. The parking level." Brenda's face flushed as she answered him.

"Okie doke. Headed out for a bite?" Will was trying to determine if they'd kill each other before they returned.

"No. Restaurant owner. He's terminal. We're going to question him." Sharon answered tersely, annoyed at the incredulous note in Will's voice.

"Together?" Will furrowed his brow. This was all very out of character, for both women.

"I'm going first. Then Sh—Captain Raydor. Would you like a list of my questions, as well, or is that good enough, Chief?" Brenda said, exasperatedly.

"Okay then." Will leaned forward on the balls of his feet, and glanced up at the numbers on the elevator. 2 more floors, and he'd be free.

As the doors slid open, he looked back at the women, and mock-saluted.

"Ladies." He tossed the word as a farewell over his shoulder, stalking off to the gun range.

The doors closed, and Brenda closed her eyes against the onslaught of desire that washed through her. She took a deep breath, and immediately, her head was full of oranges.

She opened her eyes, and saw Sharon standing closer, close enough to touch. Brenda shoved her hands into the pockets of her blazer, and leaned against the wall. They had to question the owner, and there was the not so small matter of her application for the position of Chief of Police. She had to get herself under control. She would get herself under control. She took another deep breath, and just then, the elevator shuddered, and whined to a halt, as the lights flickered.

Sharon stumbled a bit, catching herself on the door, and glanced back at Brenda. Both women looked up at the number panel. It had gone dark.

"Oh no. Oh no no no." Brenda groaned. "This cannot be happening right now."

"You're not claustrophobic, are you?" Sharon asked, stepping to her side.

"No. No, I'm not. I just can't.." Brenda trailed off as she registered the proximity of the Captain.

"We should see if the phone, the emergency phone, is working," Brenda said, stepping quickly to the small hatch that stored the handset, "let them know that we're here, so they'll fix it faster." She pulled open the tiny door, and reached for the phone, which came away traling a fray of wires behind it.

"Oh no. no no no no no!" Brenda leaned her head against the wall, and let the phone clatter to the floor.

"Chief. Brenda. What's wrong?" Sharon asked worriedly, leaning against the opposite wall.

"Really? You have to ask?" Brenda replied, without lifting her head. Her pulse was beating loudly in her ears, and she felt the slick of sweat on her palms.

"Really, I have to ask." Sharon replied, wondering if the blond woman did have a fear of enclosed spaces, and was just too embarrassed to tell her.

"Oh god. I'm an idiot." Brenda hugged her arms around her stomach, painfully aware of the Captain's indifference.

"Chief?" Sharon replied, moving to stand next to Brenda, laying a hand on her waist.

Brenda jumped as though she'd been shocked.

"You—we... Don't do that." Brenda moved, trying to escape the impossibly warm hand on her waist.

"Sorry. Of course." Sharon stepped back.

"It's just. You.. and I'm going to apply to be Chief, because you..and so I thought that..I mean you must realize..." Brenda whirled around, leaning her back against the wall, and letting her head drop back with a thud. This wasn't coming out right at all.

"I know. You're right. It's entirely inappropriate." Sharon replied, leaning against the opposite wall. Her hands clenched in defeat.

"It is. We should forget about...before." Brenda continued, running a hand through her hair.

"Indeed, Chief." Sharon nodded, meeting Brenda's gaze.

Brenda nodded back, and bit her lower lip, sighing heavily.

Sharon watched, as Brenda's chest rose and fell with her breath. She looked at that lower lip, caught between those straight, even teeth. And her body took over. She crossed the small space in 3 steps, and she put her hands on Brenda's waist. She kept her eyes locked on Brenda's.

"Tell me to back away." She whispered, her voice ragged. "Tell me you don't want this."

Brenda swallowed hard, her body already reacting to Sharon.

"Tell me, Brenda. Tell me what you want." Sharon's breath ghosted across Brenda's ear, and Brenda's resolve cracked.

"Kiss me."


	18. Chapter 18

Sharon leaned in, slanting her mouth over Brenda's, kissing gently at first. Brenda fisted the material of Sharon's shirt in her hands, and a soft moan escaped her throat as Sharon's tongue traced her lower lip. She opened to her, and her knees went weak as their tongues touched. Sharon pulled Brenda's shirt free of her skirt, and slid her hands around, caressing the bare skin at the small of her back, pressing her closer. The crush of her lips was intoxicating, and Sharon couldn't think through it to see why this was wrong. She broke the kiss, moving her lips slowly over Brenda's jaw, trailing to latch on to her neck, sucking gently. She could feel Brenda's heartbeat beneath her lips, so fast, so hard. She moved her hand, smoothing her fingers over Brenda's ribs, feeling them rise and fall in a quickening rhythm, and then she slid her hand up, cupping a bra-clad breast, letting her thumb brush roughly across the already hardened nipple in the center. Brenda gasped, and knotted her fingers in the Captain's hair. She knew that there was no coming back from this. She'd been strong enough to stop it once, when the specter of Fritz had loomed in the back of her mind, but there was nothing to stop her now. She let one hand slide free of the tangle of hair, moving it down, tracing the lines of Sharon's back, before grasping her hip, and pressing her close, rolling her own hips in response to the pressure.

Sharon hummed against her neck, and let her free hand slip down, gathering the material of Brenda's skirt in her fist. She shifted her weight, and let her thigh settle between Brenda's legs, relishing the sharp intake of breath when the Chief registered the friction. Sharon let her fingers ghost along the edge of the lacy bra cups, then pulled them down, finally making contact with the deliciously firm flesh. Brenda moaned, and let her head drop back at the contact of skin on skin, knowing that as much as it felt like it, she couldn't actually be on fire. As Sharon's skilled fingers teased her nipples impossibly hard, their lips crashed together, all desperate passion and need. Brenda teased Sharon's lower lip with her tongue, then sucked it into her mouth, biting gently. Sharon gasped at the sensation, and responded by pressing her thigh more determinedly against the Chief's wet heat. She let the skirt fall from her fingers, the barrier broken by her leg. She reached up, and quickly unfastened the top 4 buttons on Brenda's shirt, and groaned in appreciation at the sight of those breasts laid bare, framed by the hastily pulled down cups. She lowered her head, capturing one in her mouth, sucking gently, then letting her teeth graze the sensitive tip. Brenda cried out as the Captain's mouth landed hot on her skin. She ran her hands up and down Sharon's thighs, feeling the taught muscles flexing, then slid her hands up, pulling Sharon's shirt free, and letting her fingers skim the soft skin of her belly. Sharon shifted her attention to the other breast, catching the nipple between her lips, and flicking her tongue over the tip, causing Brenda to grind hard against her thigh. Sharon could feel the warmth, the heat, through the layers of fabric that separated her leg from Brenda's core. Desire made her dizzy, but she had to be sure.

"I want...I would like, very much, to touch you." Sharon's voice was richer than honey, as she purred into Brenda's ear. She slid a hand beneath Brenda's skirt, letting her fingers draw delicate patterns on her inner thigh, illustrating her point.

Brenda shivered, the sensations more than she could bear. She caught Sharon's lips with hers, whispering her consent with a kiss, and murmured yes.

Sharon's hand trailed fire along Brenda's inner thigh, and she cupped her sex through the thin fabric of her panties, smiling as Brenda pressed against her, moaning. Sharon hooked her fingers, sliding the fabric aside, and closing her eyes as she felt, for the first time, the slick wet warmth that had occupied her thoughts for so long. Brenda hissed as Sharon started to stroke her, fingers moving insistently against the bundle of nerves at her core.

"Oh...good lord" Brenda gasped, as she felt Sharon slip a finger inside, then add another. The heel of Sharon's provided constant pressure against her center, as Brenda bucked her hips, lost in the feeling of Sharon inside her. Her hand trapped between their bodies, Sharon guided the thrust of her fingers with the movement of her own hips, slow and sensual, pressing deeply. Sensing how close to the edge Brenda was, Sharon crooked her fingers, brushing against a spot that Brenda had only read about, and Brenda shattered, coming convulsively around Sharon's fingers, her name a whisper on her lips. Sharon played out the last ripples of Brenda's orgasm, kissing her gently, bringing her down from bliss with tender hands. She glanced down, the sight of the blond woman utterly undone in front of her was more than she could stand. Brenda's hair was falling out of her messy up-do, her shirt half open, exposing her creamy breasts, the dusky peaks still hard. Brenda let her head drop onto Sharon's shoulder, as she came back to herself, breathing hard.

"Brenda..." Sharon's voice was husky with arousal.

Brenda looked up, meeting flashing green eyes, darkened with desire.

"Sharon. I uh, I don't know what-" She stopped speaking abruptly, watching the Captain's movements.

Sharon had gently withdrawn her hand, letting Brenda's skirt fall back into place, and, holding Brenda's gaze, she traced her own lips with slick fingers, before licking them clean. Brenda felt her knees go weak at the sight.

"I have wanted to do that, for so very, very, long Brenda. You have no idea." Sharon whispered, leaning forward to drop a kiss on her collarbone.

"Oh. I think...I might have an inkling." Brenda chuckled breathlessly. "But, I did think it'd be on my desk, not in a stalled elevator, if it was going to be anywhere that wasn't a proper bed."

Sharon smirked at that, and then raised her hands to Brenda's breasts, caressing them before she pulled the cups of her bra back up, then, with nimble fingers, she re-fastened the buttons on Brenda's shirt. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she nodded.

"There you go. Good as new."

"I'd say better than when I started, that's for sure." Brenda blushed a deep shade of red.

"Oh? Care to expound on that?" Sharon kept her arms around Brenda, as they spoke.

"Well, I just, I mean..." Brenda fumbled for words to explain what she meant, "you are quite adept. And I've never experienced things like that, with someone who was so...I mean, I didn't know that..." Brenda trailed off again, making a small hooking motion with her fingers.

Sharon's eyes widened, as she finally grasped what the Chief was implying.

"Your g-spot?" She murmured incredulously.

"Yes. That." Brenda replied, trying not to look as flustered as she felt. This was worse than losing her virginity!

"I see. Well, you learn something new every day, don't you, Chief?" Sharon delivered the line deadpan.

"I do. I admit, there are some areas in which I am not well-versed." Brenda closed her eyes at that.

Sharon looked at her for a long moment, not understanding at first. Brenda opened her eyes, and met her gaze, and her cheeks flushed all over again. Sharon understood then,

"I think it's safe to say, that there are some areas of study," Sharon began, her voice low and full of promise, "that are more...hands on, than others." She caught Brenda's hand, lacing their fingers together. Brenda chuckled softly, and Sharon leaned forward, brushing their lips together.

"I'm a fairly quick study, or so I've been told." Brenda whispered against Sharon's lips, before teasing entrance with her tongue. The kiss, which had started slow, and gently, quickly built up into an inferno, as their bodies melded together. Sharon turned them, so that she was leaning against the wall, and brought their joined hands to the hem of her skirt, sliding it ever upward, sighing at the feel of Brenda's hands tracing over her thigh. She caught Brenda's lower lip between her own, nipping it gently, before using her free hand to push her panties to the side, and sliding Brenda's fingers across her wet folds. She let a small moan escape.

"See what you do to me?" She whispered, her voice whiskey rough, and dark. "This is what you do, without even touching me." She moved their hands in tandem, tracing circles around the sensitive nub, then gently pushed at one of Brenda's fingers, gasping when she felt one, then two slide deep, withdraw, and then slide in again. Brenda's eyes were wide, as she watched the Captain guide her hand. She leaned forward, latching on to an expanse of throat that was suddenly bared, as Sharon let her head drop back in pleasure. Brenda laid kisses all over it, sliding her fingers in and out, then, feeling adventurous, she twisted them slightly as she pushed in, and Sharon gasped, bucking beneath her. Brenda smiled against her throat, and twisted her fingers in again, then pressed the heel of her hand against the bundle of nerves at Sharon's center. As she pulled out, she dragged her thumb across the bud, then pressed back in, moaning at the incredible heat, the sensual appeal of Sharon, still fully buttoned up, but writhing on her hand, completely wanton.

"Teach me, Sharon. Teach me how to make you come." Brenda whispered, thrusting her fingers in, and feeling the dark haired woman grind against her hand.

"Oh, god. Talking like that is a good start." Sharon moaned, shuddering as Brenda's breath swept over hear ear.

"I want you to come for me. I want to make you come. I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel. Show me, Sharon. Show me what to do." Brenda brought her free hand up to caress the Captain's breast, feeling the pucker of a nipple beneath the layers of fabric. She pinched, gently, and Sharon let out a cry, bucking hard against her. She reached down, and grabbed Brenda's hand, holding it steady as she rolled her hips, gasping with each thrust.

"Kiss me..." Sharon whispered, her voice ragged.

Brenda slanted her mouth over Sharon's, slipping her tongue softly against her lips, mapping her mouth, and she squeezed the breast she'd been cupping, brushing her thumb firmly across the tender peak, as Sharon ground against her one final time, and then Brenda felt all that heat contracting around her fingers, a staccato heartbeat against her hand. She held the dark haired woman's throbbing sex gently, as the spasms subsided.

"Oh...wow." Brenda breathed, kissing a trail along Sharon's jaw.

"Indeed, Chief." Sharon replied, turning to catch Brenda's lips in a tender kiss. "Indeed."


	19. Chapter 19

Brenda stepped back, taking a deep breath. She looked at Sharon, taking in her skewed skirt, shirt half untucked, her hair wild from Brenda's clutching fingers.

"Do I look as...flustered as you do?" She asked, grinning.

"Yes. And it's very, very enticing." Sharon replied, tucking her shirt into her skirt, and running her fingers through her hair, smoothing out the tangles.

Brenda straightened her clothes, then reached for her over-sized tote, rummaging through it for a compact. Sharon reached into her small clutch, and handed Brenda a mirror.

"Here. If you plan on getting yourself together before they fix the elevator, perhaps you should use this." Sharon smiled at the Chief's glare.

Brenda took the mirror, and hastily handled her hair. She realized her lipstick was entirely kissed away, and groaned, handing the mirror back to Sharon. She ducked her head, peering into her bag, fishing for the small tube, and holding it up triumphantly when she located it. She applied the color, and saw Sharon smiling out of the corner of her eye.

"What?" she asked, expecting more ribbing about the size of her bag.

"When you put that on, it's hard to not want to kiss you. Harder than normal, that is." Sharon replied, leaning against the wall.

Brenda chuckled, and dropped her bag back on the floor. She looked up at the still dark number panel, and heaved a sigh, before inelegantly plopping herself down next to her bag. Sharon looked at her, an eyebrow arched in question.

"Well, it's not like they've fixed the elevator, and I don't know how much longer we're going to be in here...and I'm not as young as I used to be, and that was more exercise than my upper thighs have seen in a while." Brenda huffed, gingerly arranging her skirt.

Sharon laughed then, a full belly laugh. She slid her back down the wall, and seated herself delicately next to Brenda, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. Truth be told, Sharon was feeling the pleasant ache in her thighs as well, but she treasured it as proof that the preceding activities hadn't been a product of her over-active imagination.

Brenda glanced down at their joined hands, then back up at Sharon.

"What happens now?" she asked, meeting the Captain's eyes.

"Well. I suppose that depends, doesn't it?" Sharon replied, looking troubled.

"On?"

"You. You have more to lose, pursuing this," she paused, waving her free hand "whatever this is, that we're doing." Sharon kept her voice even.

"What are we doing, Sharon?" Brenda's tone was cooler now, more reserved.

"That's a good question, Chief, and one I don't have an answer for. I am extremely attracted to you, and as I've spent more time with you, I've decided that there's more to you than you let on at first glance. I'm fascinated with discovering more hidden facets. On the other hand, I'm also deeply committed to my job, and I won't do anything that will ultimately jeopardize it. I'm too old to start over somewhere else, Brenda, so if you do make Chief of Police and things between us don't work out, I need to know that you won't blur the line between your personal and professional feelings, because I am very good at my job."

"I wouldn't fire you if you broke up with me!" Brenda exclaimed, affronted at the thought. "Besides. We both know the Chief is chosen based on politics, and I'm not that person. It'll never happen. I don't even know if I want to be Chief."

"Never the less, I needed to be sure." Sharon looked up at the ceiling. "I've never done anything like this. I'm...unaccustomed to behaving outside of protocol, though I know this is old hat for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brenda narrowed her eyes.

"Just that...rules have never been your strong suit. Rather, following rules has never been your strong suit. But I'm a fairly by-the-book person. I don't know quite what to do, because although you're not technically my superior, you are a superior officer, and daliances between superiors and subordinates are generally frowned upon, even if they're not explicitly forbidden. It's an ethical grey area, I think, and I'm unfamiliar with this territory." Sharon explained, still staring at the ceiling.

"I see. For what it's worth, I'm unfamiliar with some of this as well. But I think it's worth investigating further, don't you?" Brenda responded, plucking at the hem of her skirt with her free hand. Her nerves were jangling as she spoke. Brenda hoped that Sharon wanted more than a quick shag in the elevator, but the woman was so buttoned up, it was hard to tell.

"Are you free for dinner?" Sharon asked, looking at Brenda.

"What? Tonight?"

"Yes. I know we'll both be working late, but as we established this morning in the break room, your brain requires fuel to function at peak performance," Sharon chuckled "so I was thinking dinner, tonight. I know a nice little Italian place not too far from the station. Rarely crowded, great food, great service."

"Well then. I suppose I do have to eat. I would love to have dinner with you tonight." Brenda replied, unable to keep the grin off of her face. "Assuming they fix this elevator before we starve to death."

"I suspect they're working on it now, Chief. I can't say I'm not thrilled with the delay, all things considered."

"You make an excellent argument. When we get out of here, who's driving?" Brenda replied, a cheeky grin on her lips.

"I thought I'd drive, for a change. Now that I don't have to take notes on you, I'm looking forward to not fearing for my life every time we get into a vehicle." Sharon deadpanned.

"Well, if you weren't so insistent about wearing those skirts, I'd do better on the road!" Brenda laughed, running her hand over Sharon's thigh."It's bad enough when you're standing, but when you sit, and it rides up like this," she moved the hem in demonstration "it's a wonder anyone in the car with you could stay on the road."

"Can I ask you a question, Brenda? A serious one?"

"You can."

"Are you bi-sexual?" Sharon kept her gaze steady on Brenda's face as she asked.

"I don't think so. I mean, I didn't think so. But here I am. So, yes? Maybe?" Brenda stumbled over her reply.

"So you've never been attracted to another woman before?"

"No. I didn't go through the college experimenting phase, either. This is all uncharted for me."

"But, you were checking out my legs, in the car?" Sharon's voice betrayed her confusion.

"Well no! I mean yes, but when you put it like that, it sounds dirty. You have very nice legs, though. And I happened to notice that. And then I noticed it some more. And I know that it's probably completely abnormal to make it to my age, and have a, a crises of sexual identity, or what have you, but I've never felt attraction to anyone, the way I am attracted to you. It's like I'm driven to touch you, even though intellectually, I know better. I have never, ever, felt like this towards a man. I don't know what that means, but there you go." Brenda absently ran her fingers along the hemline of Sharon's skirt as she spoke.

"I see. So that evening after the Moore case..." Sharon trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

"Yes, well. I'm not very good at impulse control, after all." Brenda laughed, though she felt a low throb at the memory.

"And then you were going to run away. At the elevator." It wasn't a question.

"Well, if I have time to think about things, generally my judgment is sound. I shouldn't have done the things I did—any of them, to be frank. I don't regret it, because here we are."

"I invited you on to the elevator, hoping your impulse control would fail again." Sharon whispered.

"I wondered about that. That's when I knew that I wasn't alone in this. That you felt something too. But I didn't—I couldn't. I wanted to come see you, but I just- I was too scared. And you never came to me, so I thought that I'd been mistaken."

"I don't make it habit, you see, of flirting with married, straight, superior officers." Sharon laughed.

"Well. There is that." Brenda replied.

The lights flickered back on, and the elevator lurched, before catching, and continuing a smooth descent. Brenda pushed herself to her feet, and reached a hand out to Sharon, who pulled herself up. Sharon glanced at the number panel—they had about 20 seconds, she figured, before the doors opened. She turned and pressed her lips against Brenda's, feeling the blonde woman respond in kind. She stepped back, and smoothed the lipstick smudging Brenda's bottom lip with her thumb, letting her hand drop to her side as the elevator stopped, and the doors slid open.


	20. Chapter 20

Will Pope blinked as the two women emerged from the elevator. He stood between the two repairmen who'd fixed the fault in the wiring, expecting to have to referee immediately. But they just nodded as they brushed past him, discussing interview techniques. Interview techniques? Pope turned to the man to his left.

"They weren't fighting." He sounded stunned.

"No sir. They seemed fine. Guess we fixed it in time." The repair man started to turn away.

"Used to be, 15 seconds wouldn't have been 'in time'. What on earth is going on?" Pope may have been a desk jockey for a while, but his sixth sense for mysteries hadn't gone completely away. He was going to figure out the change in that tide, before it backfired.

Sharon opened the passenger door to her car, holding it while Brenda settled herself inside, then pushed it closed. Getting in on the passenger side, she grinned to herself, and hitched her skirt up before sitting down, exposing a significant expanse of creamy skin. She saw Brenda glance down, and blush.

"If it's any consolation, Chief, I've been checking you out for ages. You have, despite your tendency towards florals, a certain presence, that commands my attention." Sharon put the car into gear, and started out of the garage.

"So what if I like flowers on my dresses? Flowers are pretty, and lord knows this job comes with enough ugly to last a lifetime." Brenda replied hotly.

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it." Sharon chose to ignore the ire in the other woman's voice.

"So, does this thing have a radio?" Brenda asked, looking at the complicated console in the middle of the dash board.

Sharon reached down, and clicked a button, and music filled the car. Brenda leaned back in her chair, trying to place the artist. The music was slow, and rhythmic, and the singer had a low, husky voice, as she sang about no ordinary love. The lyrics spun in Brenda's mind, curiously fitting. She cleared her throat.

"This is nice. Who sings this?" She asked, conversationally.

"Sade. The song is called No Ordinary Love. I have an Mp3 player hooked up in the trunk, with over 2000 songs on shuffle, so you never quite know what you're going to get when you turn the music on in here. I like it, it keeps the drive fresh. Like the radio, only it's all music I like, and there are no commercials or annoying Djs." Sharon replied, braking at a red light.

"I see. I don't even think there ARE 2000 songs I like. I'm terrible with technology. Usually, Fritz puts the songs on my Ipop." Brenda flushed.

"Ipod." Sharon murmured.

"What?"

"Ipod. Not Ipop. How did you explain the Melissa Ferrick song?" Sharon wondered.

"Oh. Well, I just sort of muddled through. I'm still not sure I did it right. It seems to be on there three times. But I didn't want any help, with that one." Brenda smiled a little. "That was just for me."

"You know, when it played in the car, I knew that you'd been listening to the same station driving home that night, that I had. That's not a very popular song, you see, and it rarely gets radio play." Sharon smirked then, and continued. "I find the irony appealing."

"Yes. Well. I liked it. It had a good beat." Brenda took deep breaths, trying to keep from blushing again.

They drove in silence for a while, and Brenda enjoyed being able to watch the Captain surreptitiously. The easy grace with which she handled the steering wheel was sending maddening jolts through Brenda's system, at the memory of those hands handling her. Sharon sometimes squinted, the corners of her eyes crinkling in the same way they did when she smiled, so that Brenda was praying for direct and bright sunlight. She was startled out of her quiet observations when Sharon began to sing along in the middle of the tune that was playing.

"_I could go crazy on a night like tonight_

_When summer's beginning to give up the fight_

_And every thought's a possibility_

_The voices are heard_

_but nothing is seen._

_Why do you spend this time with me_

_maybe an equal mystery._

_But you like the taste of danger_

_it shines like sugar from your lips_

_and you like to stand in the line of fire_

_just to prove you can shoot straight from your hip_

_there must be a thousand things you would die for_

_I can hardly think of two_

_but not everything is better spoken_

_not when I'm talking to you."_

Sharon's voice was clear, and strong, and unexpectedly beautiful. Brenda was captivated, and she sensed that Sharon chose the lyrics to sing along with for a reason, since there was more to the song, but she stopped singing before it was over. She pulled out her phone, and sent herself a text message, with the words 'I could go crazy on a night like to night when summer's beginning to give up the fight' to remind herself to get on that Google later, and find the song. Charlie had tried to show her how to surf the Google on her cell phone, but Brenda had only managed to master texting, before Charlie gave up, exasperated.

"You have an incredible voice!" Brenda exclaimed, as she typed.

"Thanks. I was in choir in high school. Alto, obviously." Sharon replied, smiling. She wondered if Brenda would understand, if it would occur to her that sometimes she felt like music said it better, that she was afraid to say certain things, without the support of an artist saying it first.

"Then how did you end up on the beat, instead of on Broadway?" Brenda asked, shifting so that her body was angled towards Sharon.

"I come from a family of officers. There was never any question of what I was going to be when I grew up. My blood runs blue, thanks to my father." Sharon pulled the car into a parking space.

Brenda wondered if Sharon regretted following in her father's footsteps, but held the question back. She reached down to unbuckle her seat belt, deep in thought. Sharon's hand on her knee jolted her back to the present. She looked up.

"I just wanted to say...that I'm very glad you agreed to go to dinner with me tonight. I wondered if you would say no, now that you'd gotten it out of your system." Sharon spoke quickly, then exited the car before Brenda could respond. Brenda, for her part, stayed frozen with her hand on the seat belt for a moment, before remembering that they had to conduct an interview, still, and that the poor man was probably waiting for his pain meds since they were already late. Snapping into action, she pulled the belt off, and stepped out of the car, catching up with Sharon on the steps. As they reached the landing, Sharon rang the bell, and Brenda moved to stand behind her, but leaned close enough to whisper in her ear.

"It's not out of my system. Not by a long shot, Captain. And I'm looking forward to dinner as well." Brenda moved so that she was standing next to the Captain, as the door opened.

"Can I help you?" An elderly woman peered at them through the screen door.

"Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson, and Captain Sharon Raydor, here to interview a mister Elijah James, may we come in?" Brenda let her drawl creep out, as she flashed her badge at the woman.

The woman nodded, and pushed the screen door open, then stepped back to allow them entrance. She motioned for them to follow her, as she started down the hallway.

"Eli's right back here. He's late for his meds, so I hope this won't take long. We thought you people were coming an hour and a half ago." She frowned as she paused near a door.

"We're so sorry ma'am. We were in an elevator for just over an hour, because it stalled, and they took a good while to solve the problem. We got here just as soon as we could, and If now isn't a good time, we can come back, but I promise you we won't take too long." Brenda gave the woman her brightest smile, as she poured on the southern charm.

"All right then. He's just in here." The woman turned the knob on the door she'd stopped in front of, and pushed it open, gesturing for Brenda and Sharon to enter before her.

The room was small, and filled mostly with a full-sized hospital bed, and several monitors. There was a chair near the bed, and another against an adjacent wall. Brenda moved to sit in the chair near the bed, smiling down at the man occupying the bed. She held her hand out as she introduced herself.

"Mr. James. I'm Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson, and I have a couple of questions to ask you about the shooting that occurred at your restaurant." She spoke sweetly, smiling as the man shook her hand.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. James. I can't imagine the pain of losing a child to a violent death, but I want you to know that we are doing everything in our power to find out who did this. So I need you to help me by answering my questions, even if they might seem like they don't have anything to do with what happened. Okay?" Brenda continued, pulling out a note book and pen.

"All right, Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson. I can answer your questions." The old man rasped, struggling to sit up.

The old woman rushed to his side, and slid her hand behind his back, helping him shift. He groaned at the movement, but settled back into his pillows, slightly more upright, and looking alert.

"Now, you've owned your business for the last 20 years, correct?" Brenda asked, leaning forward.

"That's right. Started it just before Emma and I got married. Her daddy give me a loan for it." He nodded as he spoke.

"And you've been involved in the day to day running of it, up until you were diagnosed, right?"

"And some more beyond my diagnosis. I didn't quit til I couldn't stand any more, you see? Man only has his family and his work. No good quitting before your time, on either of those things."

"And your daughter, she was in line to take it over, according to your will?" Brenda adjusted her glasses, and met his gaze.

"Yes ma'am. She had a good head for business, that girl. Made me damn proud." His voice broke, and Brenda leaned forward, patting his hand.

"What about your sons? Were they next in line?"

"No ma'am. They weren't interested in learning about the restaurant business. Too busy running in the street, chasing tail instead of their dreams. Nope, after my girl, Alessia, then my best friend and business partner Jerome. He been with me from the start." The man was wracked with a coughing fit, and the older woman flitted to his side, offering a small cup of water, as she smoothed her hand across his head.

Brenda averted her eyes, realizing the personal nature of such a tender exchange. She thought about Fritz, and how she'd expected to grow old with him. She tried to imagine them, as this couple. But if Fritz had been so ill, Brenda knew she wouldn't have been the attentive care-giver this Emma was. She closed her eyes, grief at her inability to think of anyone other than herself, and her career washing over her.

Sharon leaned against the doorjamb, observing the whole scene. She wondered why Brenda looked so sad. The man was dying, that much was clear, but he was dying in his home, with the woman he loved taking care of him, and guiding him through his last days with dignity. Sharon thought it was beautiful. She cleared her throat, and Brenda opened her eyes and looked at her.

"Chief Johnson, do you have any more questions for Mr. James?" Sharon spoke softly.

"Just one more, Captain, then he's all yours." Brenda replied, taking a deep breath.

"Mr. James, I won't take up much more of your time, but I have one more question. If your partner Jerome is unable to assume leadership of the business, what happens?"

"Well, he's younger than me, so he'll be fine. But if he can't, then it goes to my oldest son. He'll probably sell it. Hope he keeps it in the neighborhood, and doesn't turn it into a Starbucks or something like that. Neighborhood needs a good family restaurant, place they can take their kids and not worry about leaving if the kid starts to act up, you know? It's good for the community." He answered earnestly, his eyes bright.

"Thank you so much for your time. I can't tell you how helpful you've been. We'll be in touch. My associate has a few questions for her investigation, and then we'll be out of your hair." Brenda stood, shoving her notebook and pen back into her bag, and gestured to Sharon.

Sharon moved to take the seat by the bed. She took her glasses off and smiled, offering her hand.

"Mr. James, I'm Captain Sharon Raydor. I'm in charge of investigating the officer who fired his weapon on your property. His name is Charles Taggart. Does that sound familiar?"

"No ma'am. We have a few beat cops who are regulars, we give free coffee and pastry to them, you know, in thanks for looking out for our neighborhood. But I don't know an officer Taggart, unless he's a rookie, new to our community, and just hasn't heard about the free coffee." James coughed out a laugh at that.

"No sir, he's not a rookie. He was off duty, and at the mini-mart next door." Sharon replied.

"That place. That place has gone to the dogs. Used to be run by a nice Indian family. They moved out to Laguna bout 3 years ago, and now some Russians own it. They let the dealers loiter, and deal out of there, in exchange for protection. It's a damn shame. Those dealers deal to school kids! Babies! I called and called the police, but it never seemed to be a priority. Finally, I just started chasing them off with a broom when they'd hang out front. Bad for my business, all those thugs hanging around. People scared to come eat." He frowned.

"Do you know the names of the new owners?" Sharon poised her pen over her note pad, sensing this may be relevant in the future.

"Petryskova. But they say Peters, cuz most folks in this neighborhood don't do so well with foreign sounding names. It's cousins, you know. Gunter and Robert. Gunter's an okay sort. Goes to college for some philosophical something. Robert runs the business, mostly. He's the one who said okay to the gangs and the drugs. Gunter always has his nose in a book, can't be bothered to notice the shady people Robert takes up with." The old man coughed again, and Sharon handed him the cup that Emma had left on his bed side table.

"That's all for now, Mr. James. Thank you for being so forthcoming with your information. I greatly appreciate your time, and I'm sorry we took so much of it. If you think of anything else, please call us. Otherwise, we'll be in touch." Sharon left a business card on the table, and walked to the door, where Brenda and Emma stood waiting.

Emma walked them to the front door, pausing with her hand on the knob. She turned and pinned them with her watery gaze.

"You find the people who killed my baby. You find them, and you make them pay." She said, her soft voice not easing the venom of her words.

She jerked the door open, and nodded at them, as they stepped out into the fresh air. Brenda stopped on the top step, and turned to look at the woman through the screen door.

"I will." She said simply, before starting down the steps.

Sharon followed close behind, her thoughts focused on the new information about the Russian owners of the mini-mart the Officer had been in at the time of the shooting. Distractedly, she opened the door for Brenda, then walked around and got into the driver's seat. She keyed the ignition, and waited til she heard the click of Brenda's seat belt before she put the car in gear, and pulled out.

"Well that went well, don't you think?" Brenda asked, thoughtfully.

"Yes. I'm especially interested in the Russian cousins." Sharon replied, putting on her turn signal.

"Really? I want to know more about the sons." Brenda mused, flipping through her notebook.

They sat in silence with their thoughts, until Brenda's phone rang.

"Johnson." She spoke into the phone.

"Uh huh. Okay. What about the other one? Well, where do we find him? Really? All right. We're on our way, then." She slid the phone shut, and looked over at Sharon.

"The oldest son is at the restaurant, and he's apparently quite distraught. I'd very much like to talk to him, and while I do that, you could interview the Petryskovas. What do you say?"

"Excellent. I have a good feeling about this." Sharon replied, moving into the left lane, to turn back towards the restaurant.


	21. Chapter 21

Sharon parked the car in front of the restaurant, and got out of the car at the same time Brenda did. She glanced at her watch, then at the Chief.

"How long do you think you'll need with the son?" She asked.

"Mm. Hard to say. 45 minutes, tops?" Brenda answered, rummaging through her bag for her pad and pen.

"Okay. I won't need that long with the store owners, so I'll meet you over here when I'm done." Sharon flashed a wide grin at Brenda, then spun on her heel and walked over to the mini mart, pulling open the door and disappearing inside.

Brenda watched her go, then turned, and walked into the restaurant. She was uneasy, but she couldn't place the source of her feeling. The young man she was supposed to be interviewing sat on a stool at the counter, his head in his hands. She walked over to him, and sat down on a stool near his.

"Mr. James?" She spoke his name softly, though thanks to the string of bells on the door to the restaurant, she was sure she hadn't startled him with her presence.

"Erik. Mr. James is my father." His voice was thick with tears.

"Erik. I am so sorry about your sister. I promise you, I'm going to do everything in my power to bring her killer to justice. Any help you can give me, to that end, would be greatly appreciated. Do you think you can answer some questions for me?" She asked gently, putting her notepad on the counter.

"Sure, although I don't know what kind of help I'll be." He spun his stool to face her, his eyes hollow.

"Can you tell me about your sister? People she may have argued with recently, or a jilted boyfriend?"

He laughed, a short, bitter burst.

"I can't tell you anything about my sister. We haven't spoken in over a year."

"Since your father's diagnosis?" Brenda was surprised.

"We had a...disagreement. I haven't really seen my father since then, either." He answered.

"Illness can be hard on a family, I know when my daddy had his heart trouble, it put a right strain on my relationship with my mama and my brother. It's hard to see the people you love hurting, isn't it?" She sympathized, patting the young man on his arm.

"Well, sure. But that wasn't what the disagreement was about. Alessia, she told my father that my brother and I would never want anything to do with this place. So he changed his will, and gave Jerome second dibs on it. I tried to tell them that Jerome wouldn't like being 2nd in command to a younger woman, but nobody would hear me. They thought I was jealous, that I was trying to get in line. That I wanted this place. I don't, you know. I hate the smell of cooking oil. I got teased in school, because I always smelled like fry grease. I don't want to run this place. I just knew that, being old school, Jerome wouldn't take kindly to being put second to Alessia. My father always looked past that man's fault, because he loved him. But I see him for who he really is. And really, he's a punk ass, who thinks women belong in the kitchen, or knocked up. But not above him in business, you feel me?" He ground his teeth together.

"What about your mother? Did she have feelings about Jerome?"

"She knows what I know. But she doesn't think he's capable of doing anything to fix the problem, you see? She dated Jerome, before she met my father. She called him shiftless. Said he lacked direction. She told me that Jerome had all the good ideas, and my father had all the follow through. And that that's why she married my father. Because he would follow through. This restaurant was Jerome's idea. He wanted to have a soul food joint, you know? Place for families to come, eat some good food, shoot the shit, place they could bring their kids. Said he wanted to call it Romey's Joint. When my mom got together with my father, she told him that Jerome had asked her father for a loan to start it up. Her father said no, because he knew it would fail. So my dad went to the small business beureau, and had them draw up a business plan. He found a real estate person who showed him around to different restaurants that were on sale. He went to her father, with estimates, and projections of profits. Her father gave him a loan to start this place. My father and Jerome didn't speak for 6 months, and then my father brought Jerome on as a junior partner. I don't think Jerome really understood that that meant that if my dad kicked the bucket, he'd still be junior to whoever my dad chose. So when my dad got diagnosed, right? Jerome was all, 'I'm here for you, man. The restaurant will be safe with me.' and all like that, and my dad was like, 'The restaurant will be in good hands, with you and Alessia.' And Jerome left that room, you could just feel the rage, you know? Like it was coming off him in waves. And so I told my dad, that he had to make Jerome the senior partner, or cut him out all together, because he wasn't going to be no second to no female. And my father just looked at me. He looked at me and he said, 'Son. I never thought I'd see the day, when you'd dishonor your uncle like that. You'll always have a place in this business, but Jerome has been there from the start. You can't just say whatever you want to say, and think that that will make me change my mind about the will. I'm disappointed in you.' And I didn't know what to say. I mean, here, my father finds out he's dying, right? And all I'm trying to do is be a man, and make sure my baby sister is okay, and he's thinking I'm trying to move on him? Before he's even cold in the ground? Does he think that's the kind of man he raised? Just because I don't want to run the restaurant, doesn't mean I don't have dreams. I'm in school now, for information technology. I'm going to open a computer repair business. But my father thinks I'm busy chasing girls, and drinking beer on the corner. He doesn't see me, just like he didn't see Jerome. I don't know what happened here last night. But I do know that I find it damned weird that someone came in here shooting, and my baby sister gets executed, and Jerome walks out with not a scratch. They didn't take shit. I looked around. Nothing is missing. They shot my sister in cold blood, ma'am, and they left Jerome in the kitchen. What could she have done? She's 24 years old. What could she have done? Tell me that." His voice broke, and the tears spilled over, as he put his head down on the counter and sobbed.

Brenda put her hand on his shoulder, and patted it absently, her mind reeling with the new information. With her free hand, she rummaged in her bag, and pulled out her cell phone.

"Lt. Tao? Can you run the money on a Mister Jerome Parks? Yes, he was the junior partner in the business. Thank you so much." She slid the phone shut, and realized that Erik was staring at her.

"You think he set it up, don't you?" His voice was hard, now, no trace of tears.

"No sir, I do not. I don't have any thoughts, yet, one way or the other. I already ran the money on your father, your sister, and you and your brother. I wasn't aware that Jerome had a vested interest in the business, because until I spoke with you and your father, we were under the impression that he was just an employee. Since that's what he told us. Erik, can I ask you one more question? It might seem odd, but I think it might be important." Brenda leaned in, putting her hand on his arm.

"Sure. I'll tell you anything you want to know." Erik replied.

"Before last night, had anyone shot a gun in here before, that you know of?"

"Once, we got stuck up. This was about, 6 years ago? And Jerome, he was waving the pistol they kept for protection, cuz he didn't think it was loaded, and he shot the ceiling. Just over there, above the magazine racks. You can still see the hole. My dad left that tile up to remind the neighborhood thugs that we got bullets too, you know? Worked, too, til last night. Nobody tried to mess with us, not even the peeps who roll with the Russians now." Erik answered, gesturing in the direction of the errant bullet.

"What happened to the casing? From the bullet that hit the ceiling.?" Brenda asked.

"We kept it in the cash register. Just to razz Jerome. It's probably still there." He moved around to the register, and keyed it open. He shuffled through the change, then the bills, then looked up at Brenda, his eyes wide.

"It's gone. It's been here since it happened, and it's gone. What does that mean?" He asked, his voice trembling.

"I'm not sure, Erik. But I intend to find out." Brenda answered. She glanced at her watch, and discovered that an hour had passed since they started talking. She frowned, wondering what was keeping Sharon.

"Listen, Erik. You've given me a lot to work with today, and I thank you so much for being so forthcoming. I am truly sorry for your loss, I am. I can tell that you loved your sister very much, and I want to do all that I can to bring her killer in, okay? If you think of anything else, you call me. I have to go find my associate. She had some questions for the owners of the mini-mart, and I expected her back a while ago." Brenda stood, and started towards the door.

Erik reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Wait! Let me walk you over there. There are some people who don't take kindly to cops in this area, and they all tend to congregate over there. And no offense, but you scream 5-0." Erik kept his hand on her arm, as he propelled her towards the door.

"Well all right then. Thank you." Brenda hoped that Sharon's late arrival was due to the discovery of something important, and not anything untoward.

They walked up the street, and Brenda peered into the store, but didn't see Sharon anywhere. She pulled open the door, and Erik followed her in. Stepping to the counter, she flashed her badge at the tall clerk.

"Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson. My associate came in here about an hour ago, to inquire about the shooting that took place here last night. Can you show me where she is?" Brenda kept her accent under control, limiting her drawl.

"She was here. She left. I do not know where she went." The man's accent was pronounced.

"Can you tell me your name, sir?" Brenda narrowed her eyes at him.

"Robert Peters." He replied, his voice terse.

"And did you speak with my associate?"

"I did. She asked about the politsiya who shot his gun last night. I do not know him, but I have seen him before. He is friends with that chornee* who works the restaurant on this street. I told her that. She asked how often he was around. I told her I do not keep the tabs on politsiya or the chornees. She asked me about the young people who are often in and out of my store all the day long. I tell her that I cannot be the truant person, and make them go to school like they should. So I keep my head down, and I mind my business, and they do not steal my cigars and the candy." He turned away, straightening a display behind him.

"How long ago did she leave, Mr. Peters?" Brenda was trying to push back the creeping sense of dread.

_*chornee is a phonetic spelling of the Russian word for Black._

"Mmm. Thirty minutes, maybe? As I say, I do not keep the tabs on the politsiya." He replied, without turning to face her.

"All right then. Thank you." Brenda stepped back out onto the street, and took several deep breaths. Erik stood next to her, scanning the street.

"Your girl, she got a cell phone?" he asked, realizing that the blonde woman was near panic.

"Yes. Or, at least, she did. Assuming it hasn't been stolen." Brenda replied, frozen by the worst case scenarios running through her head.

"Call it." Erik barked.

"What? Oh. Yes. Right." Brenda pulled her phone out, and dialed Sharon's number. As she stood, listening to the ring, Erik walked down the street, then gestured to her to follow.

"Come here, fast!" He called out.

Brenda sprinted after him, following as he turned into the alleyway between the restaurant and the mini-mart.

"Call the phone again." he said

Brenda dialed, and heard the faint ringing of Sharon's cell phone. She followed the sound, and found Sharon on the ground behind the dumpster. Dropping to her knees, she dialed 911, while fumbling to find a pulse. She sobbed with relief when she felt the steady thrum of Sharon's heart beneath her fingers. When dispatch answered, she relayed their location, and explained that there was an officer down. She turned to Erik, still standing there, looking slightly green.

"Go get me some plastic bags, and some tape. And go tell Mr. Roberts to give you a pack of Ziploc bags, unless he wants the wrath of the LAPD on him. Go fast!" She instructed, turning back to the prone form on the ground before her. There was a huge bruise forming on Sharon's temple, and she had the beginnings of a black eye. Brenda found a pencil in her purse, and flipped open Sharon's blazer, relieved to see that she still had her gun and badge. She heard footsteps returning, and looked up to see Erik dashing down the alleyway, his hands full of plastic.

"Here. I got a lot of bags, because you didn't say how many." He said, handing her the items.

"Thank you. Can you go wait for the ambulance, and show the paramedics where to bring the stretcher? " She asked, turning back to Sharon without waiting for his reply.

She took a large plastic bag, and placed it over Sharon's left hand, covering the sleeve of her jacket as well. She used the tape to secure it, then repeated the process on her right hand, hoping to preserve any evidence that might have been collected if Sharon had fought back. She knew that she shouldn't move her, that she might be disturbing the crime scene, but she didn't care. She pulled Sharon into her lap, and stroked her face gently.

"Sharon? Captain Raydor? It's Brenda. It's me. Sharon. If you can hear me, I need you to wake up now. Sharon. Come on, now. You're a fighter. Don't stay down." Brenda leaned down, pressing her lips to the Captain's forehead.

"Come on. Sharon. Dammit, Captain! Don't you bail on me now. You just got bumped on the head. Come on." Brenda's voice cracked, and the tears that had been obediently staying put, spilled over. She angrily wiped them away, and sniffled loudly.

"Do you...need...a tissue, Chief? If they left my purse, I believe I have one." Sharon's voice was thin, and very dry, but Brenda thought it might have been the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard.

"Oh thank god. Thank. God. I cannot tell you what you've done to my need for chocolate, Sharon. I may have to knock over a ding dong truck. What on earth happened?" Brenda pressed her face into Sharon's hair, relishing the citrus sting, and ignoring the tears that continued to fall.

"I talked to the store owner, Robert. He's a charmer, let me tell you. And he told me that Officer Taggart was friends with one of the restaurant people. I'm assuming it's Jerome, though it may also be the daughter. I left the store, and stopped by the car to make a phone call to my team. Then, I was on my way in to meet you, when I heard something behind me. I went to turn, and everything went black. The next thing I remember, is you, sniffing into my ear drum." Sharon moved to sit up, but Brenda held her tight.

"You've got quite the bump on your head, so I think we'll forestall any movement til the paramedics arrive, okay? Humor me?" Brenda pleaded.

"Fine. I'm a little dizzy anyway." Sharon relaxed into Brenda's arms.

"They should be here any minute. My god. You were laying there, so still. And I thought...I thought that you...and I..."Brenda stifled another sob, and leaned down, pressing her lips gently against Sharon's. "When I found your pulse, I promised myself that as soon as you were awake, I would kiss you, no matter who was around. Leave it to you to wake up in the alley before there's an audience." She quipped, quirking her lips in a small smile.

"I didn't know you were an exhibitionist, Chief Johnson." Sharon murmured, wincing as she moved her head.

"Shhh. Hold still. I think I hear them coming." Brenda said, but put her hand on her gun belt, flipping the holster open anyway.

The paramedics, led by Erik James, burst into the alleyway, and moved quickly, transferring Sharon to the stretcher, and checking her vitals. Brenda called Sgt. Elliot, and asked him to bring the spare set of keys for Sharon's car, and drive it to the hospital, since her purse was indeed, missing. Then, she shook hands with Erik again, and thanked him for his help, before following Sharon into the back of the ambulance.


	22. Chapter 22

Brenda paced the hallway outside of Sharon's room. She'd just spun on her heel to begin another rotation, when Will Pope materialized in front of her.

"Brenda?" He asked, surprised. "What are you doing here, still? I thought you'd given your statement?"

"Will. She was riding with me when she was assaulted. Don't you think I ought to be here? The beats are already canvassing that neighborhood, and Tao is running the money for the partner, and Flynn and Provenza are looking for the younger brother. Detective Gabriel is bringing my car, and Sgt. Elliot is driving her car here. If she's not cleared for driving, if that bump turns out to be a concussion, then I'll have Sgt. Elliot drive it to her place, and I'll take her home in my car." Brenda replied shortly.

"Um. Okay then. So, I haven't had a chance to read the statements, what happened this afternoon?" Will leaned against the wall, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Well. We spoke with Elijah James, the restaurant owner. He gave us some good info, turns out he's dying of cancer, you see. Bed-ridden. So he was going to leave the restaurant to his daughter, our victim Alessia. The witness, Jerome, was with the business from the beginning, because he's the owner's best friend. Turns out, when we spoke with Jerome, he underplayed his role in the business. According to Erik, the older son, Jerome is a junior partner. Apparently, when they were younger, it was Jerome's idea to start a soul food restaurant, but he couldn't get the money or he didn't have the follow through. Elijah got the money, and, it seems, the girl, in the process. He brought Jerome on, but wrote the contracts so that he'd never have a controlling interest in the business. It's split, 60/40, in favor of the James family. So Jerome isn't hurting, but according to Erik, he's very old fashioned, and chafed at the idea of playing junior partner to a 20something female. Anyway, when we, when Captain Raydor and I were on our way back to the station, Lt. Tao called to let me know the older boy was at the restaurant. When Sh—Captain Raydor interviewed the owner, he'd told her about the owners of the mini-mart where the officer who fired on the suspects had been, prior to the incident. Seems they're Russian, in with a little bit of the local crime scene, let the dealers deal on their property, in exchange for theft protection and what not. Shar—that is, Captain Raydor had the sense that they might have some information, so while I went to meet with Erik James, she went up the street to the mini-mart. She spoke with the owner for about half an hour, then went to the car, and placed a 13 minute phone call into FID. She was on her way down the street to the restaurant, when someone stepped out the alleyway between the store and the restaurant, and bashed her head. They dragged her into the alleyway, stole her purse, thankfully not her gun and badge, but maybe they didn't know she was an officer, and left her unconscious behind the dumpster, where I found her. I dialed 911, checked for a pulse, sent Erik James for plastic bags and tape to bag her hands in case there was defensive evidence, and then I waited for the paramedics to arrive, and I rode over here with them. It's been 39 minutes, and they haven't come out to update me on what's going on with her, and frankly, I'm starting to lose my temper. Now here we are. That's the summary." Brenda sighed, and leaned against the wall next to Will.

"Well, so it sounds like it was a standard mugging, and not related to the case?" He asked.

"So far, that's the going consensus. I'm withholding judgment until more information is known. The fact that they only took her purse is promising. But why hit her twice? She was knocked out from the first one, most likely. So did she wake up halfway through, and get punched in the face? I don't understand her injuries, and that's bothering my sensibilities. Besides which, who mugs someone in broad daylight, in a neighborhood that's crawling with cops because of an investigation? It's not sitting right with me, and I'm frustrated that I let time get away from me, and left her in a position to be attacked." She pinched the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes.

"Well, Brenda, you can't blame yourself. You were both questioning witnesses relevant to the case. It's not as though you're joined at the hip." Will put his hand on her shoulder, and squeezed reassuringly.

Brenda felt heat flood through her, as the memory of the elevator, and effectively being joined at the hip with Sharon Raydor played through her brain. Just then, the door to Sharon's room opened, and the doctor stepped out. He turned to face Brenda and Will.

"She's awake, but groggy. She has a concussion, and she'll need to be monitored for 24 hours. She says she lives alone, so we'll likely keep her here overnight." The doctor glanced down at the chart in his hand.

"NO! No, I mean, that won't be necessary. I'll stay with her, overnight. I've dealt with concussed officers before, my husband is an FBI agent, and gets knocked on the head quite a bit." Brenda spoke rapidly, dismayed at the idea of Sharon being in this place for one minute longer than she had to.

Will blinked at her, owlishly.

"Brenda. You're going to spend, voluntarily, the next 24 hours, playing nursemaid to Sharon Raydor?" His voice rose in incredulity.

"Yes sir, I am. You know as well as I do, if we leave her here unattended, she'll walk out AMA, and go back to working this case, because of that stupid 72 hour deadline. At least if I'm around, she can run a command post from bed, and maybe actually give that ridiculously hard head time to heal. Trust me. I'm about to save the department a world of misery." She smiled sweetly, then turned back to the doctor.

"Can we see her, now?"

"Sure. Just, try and keep things low key. I'll tell the nurse to start processing her discharge papers." The doctor snapped the chart closed, and moved down the hallway.

Brenda pushed open the door to the Captain's room, and gestured Will inside.

"After you, Chief?" She drawled.

Will shot her one last look of consternation, then went into the room, smiling.

"Captain Raydor. I'm glad you're okay." Will stood at the foot of her bed, looking down with half a smile.

"Thank you, Chief Pope." Sharon replied, wincing as she moved to sit up.

"Lay down, for heaven's sake!" Brenda piped up from her position near the door.

Sharon glanced over at her, then back at Pope.

"I gave my statement earlier. Did you need more information? He hit me from behind, so I can't give you a description, unfortunately." She said, her voice tired.

"No, no. I read your statement. I uh, I just wanted to come and check on you." He stammered.

Brenda watched as a flush spread over the back of his neck Her eyes narrowed. She remembered that flush. That was his, 'I'm attracted to you, but I'm not going to say it yet.' flush. She'd been on the receiving end of that flush a number of times before he finally acted on it. The urge to shoot him in the ankle washed over her, and she clenched her fists, then took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

"Cap'n, they wanted to keep you overnight for observation, since you have a concussion, and so—"

Sharon cut her off.

"Unacceptable. I have things to do." Her tone was stern,

"Yes, well, I figured as much. But they're adamant about you being under the care of a-"

Sharon cut her off again.

"I'll sign out AMA. I am not staying the night."

"Oh for heaven's sake! Would you let me finish?" Brenda exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.

"I fail to see what you could say that would have any bearing on my discharge, but go ahead."

Brenda scowled, but continued.

"Since I knew you'd never agree to stay here, I convinced the doctor to let me take you home, as long as I promise to keep an eye on you for the next 24 hours. That way, you can still be in touch with FID for your deadline, but you can run your command from my couch."

"YOUR couch?" Sharon hissed, glaring at Brenda.

"Well. I have a cat. And I can't leave both of you unattended, now can I? Poor Joel needs to eat, after all." Brenda replied sweetly, clenching her hands behind her back.

"This is ridiculous. I am going home. To MY house. BY MYSELF. I will be fine." Sharon growled through her teeth, and shoved her covers back, swinging her legs around.

She used the arm of the bed to pull herself up, and then felt the world go wobbly as she swayed on her feet. Her vision doubled, but she felt strong arms catch her around the waist.

"Whoa there. I got you. Let's sit back down for a minute, okay?" Pope's voice seemed to be coming from very far away, but Sharon let herself be guided back onto the bed.

"You win, Chief Johnson. But I won't need the full 24 hours, I'm sure, and you will not interfere with my investigation, is that clear?"

Brenda flexed her jaw before answering.

"Yes, Cap'n Raydor. Crystal clear. I'm going to go place us an order for some take out. Is there anything you're in the mood for? Doctor said you might be a little queasy from the concussion...maybe some soup or something?"

"I'm not hungry." Sharon answered tersely.

"I don't cook. It's take out or taking your chances with whatever might be in my refrigerator. What'll it be?" Brenda chirped back, grinning.

"Soup is fine. I prefer minestrone, or lentil." Sharon kept her gaze trained on the ceiling, avoiding Brenda's probing stare.

"Alrighty then. I'm just going to step out and make that call. Holler if you need me, Cap'n!"

She nodded at Will, then stepped into the hallway, and leaned against the wall. What on earth was she thinking? 24 hours of a very irritable Sharon Raydor in her home seemed like the worst idea she'd ever had. Worse, even, than staying on with Pope after he'd admitted that he was married. This was bad judgment to the extreme, it was, and yet, Brenda couldn't help the slight quickening of her pulse as she thought about being alone with that woman, grumpy or not.

Sharon leaned against the papery thin pillows of the hospital bed, and peered at Will Pope out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't figure out why the man was still hovering, and giving her that look.

"Was there anything else, Chief Pope?" She finally asked, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the room.

"Hmm? Oh, no. No. I should probably get back, and see how things are going at the station. Good luck with Brenda. You're going to need it. She's a fan of chicken soup curing everything from bullet wounds to a broken heart. I hope you weren't set on minestrone. If she gets too overbearing, call me. I'll come rescue you, and keep watch at your place." He chuckled, then stepped forward to take her hand.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Sharon. The department needs you. You take care." He squeezed her fingers in his, then turned sharply on his heel, and walked out, nodding at Brenda as he passed, a small smile playing at his lips. He couldn't wait for his phone to ring, an exasperated Sharon Raydor in need of his assistance. Those two wouldn't last 5 hours. He whistled a short tune, as he pressed the button for the elevator.

Brenda watched him leave, and narrowed her eyes. He had feelings for Sharon, she was sure. She heard that tuneless whistle, and that confirmed it. She'd heard him whistle that after she'd agreed to go to dinner with him, all those years ago. She couldn't blame him, after all, Sharon was beautiful, capable, smart, and ambitious to a fault. And Will always had liked the strong, domineering sorts. Still, her hand twitched towards her sidearm as she watched him almost skip onto the elevator. The mental image of shooting him in the ankle kept her from hearing the tinny voice coming through her phone.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" She asked, clearing the giggle out of her throat.

"Your order will be ready in 20 minutes. Total is $37.44." The voice replied, sounding impatient.

"Thank you so much. We'll be there in 2 shakes of a lamb's tail." Brenda simpered, before closing her phone.


	23. Chapter 23

The ride home was tense, as Sharon stewed about letting Elliot drive her car again. Brenda kept her jaw clenched tightly, her hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel, her eyes on the road, unwavering. The cabin of the car was filled with the warm aroma of minestrone soup, and lentil soup, and a good old fashioned chicken noodle soup, and Brenda had splurged and added a loaf of warm, fresh baked bread to her order when she ran in to pick it up. As they pulled into the driveway, Sharon was already unbuckling her seat belt. Brenda reached over, laying a hand on her knee.

"Sharon, can you just give me a minute to get the door unlocked? You haven't had much to eat, and you've got that nasty bump, and honestly, if you pass out, I'll have to leave you out here, because I don't think I can carry you into the house."

"Fine. I have a deadline, Brenda. Please keep that in mind." Sharon leaned her head back against the headrest, and scowled.

Brenda rolled her eyes, and got out of the car, grabbing the box of soup from the backseat, and stalked to her door. Unlocking it, she pushed inside, and set the soup on the coffee table, before turning to go back out to the car. As she approached, she saw Sharon glance over, then away. Brenda pulled the door open, and held out her hand, offering her assistance to the dark haired woman. Sharon glared at the outstretched hand, but took it, feeling a small thrill move through her belly at the sensation those fingers had wrought earlier in the day.

Brenda settled Sharon on the couch, then dashed up to her closet, changing into jeans and an old Georgia U tee shirt. She grabbed a pair of sweatpants, and a plain white tee shirt for Sharon, since she had insisted on not wasting time on detouring to her house for an overnight bag. Brenda blinked, realizing that the guest room bed would have to be re-made, and she'd have to sleep in this room again. For the first time. Without Fritz. And with Sharon Raydor under the same roof. She closed her eyes, and blew out the breath she'd been holding, before turning, and heading back down the steps. She handed the change of clothes to Sharon, then headed into the kitchen, where she found clean bowls, and doled out the soup, shoving aside some files and newspapers to make space on the dining table. Sharon stepped out of the half bath, clad in the sweatpants and shirt she'd taken with a haughty sniff. Brenda stopped, her ladle hovering in mid pour, as she glanced up to see the Captain stretching, her breasts pushing against the thin cotton shirt, the pebbled nipples in clear relief. Sharon shrugged her shoulders, working out the tension, then looked up, meeting Brenda's gaze.

"Is everything okay, Brenda? You're very…still." Sharon walked over to the table, as Brenda shook her head, and went back to ladling the soup.

"Just fine, Sharon. How's your head? It's almost time for one of those old horse pills they gave you for the pain." Brenda kept her eyes on the soup, hating the heat throbbing between her thighs. The woman had a concussion, for the love of all that was holy. There'd be no inappropriate behavior until the doctor cleared her!

"Hm? Oh, it's sore. I feel okay, though. Not dizzy, and I'm actually a little hungry, to be honest. The bread smells terrific." Sharon smiled, sitting down at the table, and reaching for the long French loaf. "Besides. The sooner we get dinner over with, the sooner we can move on my case."

Brenda suppressed a smirk, and pushed the bowl of minestrone across the table to Sharon.

"Minestrone. I thought for sure you'd make me eat the chicken noodle. Pope seemed to think you'd force feed it to me." Sharon blew on a spoonful of soup, chuckling.

"Will Pope is an idiot." Brenda replied waspishly, plopping into her chair.

"Well, that much we agree on. I thought you were fond of him, though." Sharon peered at Brenda, buttering the bread.

"Well. He's a good friend. But he's still an idiot."

Sharon decided not to press the issue, and the two women ate in silence for a bit. Brenda glanced at her watch, then jumped up from the table as though she'd been shot.

"Oh for heaven's sake! I have to make a phone call. Excuse me for one moment, please."

Sharon watched as Brenda dashed out of the room, snatching up her cell phone on the way.

Brenda walked into the den, and dialed Fritz's phone number.

"Pick up. Pick up…" she muttered, impatiently.

"Agent Howard". Fritz's baritone came through the line.

"Fritz. It's me. I was hoping that you could wait until tomorrow to come get your things. I know it's inconvenient, but something's come up, and I've got an unexpected house guest." Brenda tapped her foot, as she waited for him to respond.

"You have a guest, and because of that, you don't want me to come over?" Fritz sounded angry.

"That's what I said, yes." Brenda answered coolly.

"It's Pope, isn't it. You've gotten back together with Pope!" Fritz's voice cracked.

"What? You think that I—and Will Pope…that we…"Brenda trailed off into a peal of laughter.

"It's not funny, Brenda Leigh, we took a vow."

"No, no. I know. You're right. It isn't funny. But my houseguest isn't Will Pope, Fritz. For your information, it's Captain Raydor." Brenda pulled her glasses off, and dabbed at the tears of mirth that had gathered at the corners of her eyes.

"Captain Raydor? SHARON Raydor?" Fritz sounded skeptical.

"We're working a case, and she's got a fairly nasty concussion. She lives alone, and so I told the hospital I'd keep an eye on her, so she wouldn't sign out AMA. But she's being ornery about her 72 hour deadline, and I just thought it'd be easier for all involved, if you just waited til tomorrow, when the house was empty, to pick up your things." Brenda spoke quickly, glancing at her watch again.

"That's fine, Brenda. I was going to have a hard time making it over there before 8ish anyway. Thank you for calling. I lo—You take care now." He disconnected before Brenda could reply.

Walking back to the dining room, Brenda detoured, and fetched a bottle out of her purse, dumping a pill into the palm of her hand. She moved to stand next to Sharon, and placed the pill on the table beside her water glass.

"There you go. Now that you've had some food, that shouldn't hit you too hard."

"I need my FID files. I need to talk to my officers. We need the financials from Tao. I don't need a pill for a silly little headache!" Sharon fairly growled.

"Alright then. What's say we move you to your new command post on the couch. You can have the whole coffee table for a work space!" Brenda smiled cheerily.

"Fine." Sharon accepted a hand up, moving to the couch, as Brenda gathered the requisite files and found Sharon's cell phone in the bottom of her tote. She handed them to Sharon, then moved to clear the dishes off the table, giving herself a space to look at her own files.

They worked together in silence, the only sounds the rustle of papers, and the occasional sound of Sharon calling a member of her team, her murmured tones soothing to Brenda's slightly rattled psyche. She glanced up at Sharon, taking in the gentle lines of her profile from across the room, the curtain of her hair falling over her shoulder. '_She's beautiful.' _Sighing, she turned back to her paperwork.

As she looked over the financials for the sons, she had the niggling suspicion that she was missing something. Frowning, she grabbed the stack of papers, and plopped down on the couch next to Sharon.

"I'm missing something." She groused.

"Well, let me take a look. You look at Taggart's file, and tell me what I'm missing." Sharon sounded equally irritable.

They swapped files, and Brenda leaned back, adjusting her glasses on her nose, studying the long list of transactions in front of her. Sharon leaned back as well, and Brenda absently ran a hand along her thigh, letting it rest just above her knee. Sharon's breath caught, and Brenda glanced over, smirking.

"You have a concussion, Captain. Don't get any ideas."

"You just surprised me, that's all. I'm not…I don't often have people groping me when I'm working." Sharon said, narrowing her eyes.

"Pity." Came Brenda's reply.

Suddenly, Sharon whipped the file out of Brenda's hand.

"Hey! I was reading that!" Brenda said hotly.

"Look. I knew there was something weird, but look!" Sharon replied excitedly.

She spread the papers from Taggart's financials out next to the ones from Marc James, the younger son of the restaurant owner. She ran her finger down a column of numbers on one page in the James file, pointing at a series of cash back transactions made at a Point of Sale console. Then she moved her finger to Taggart's page, and showed a series of deposits that matched the amounts withdrawn.

"Bingo." Brenda breathed.

"Well. All this proves is that Marc and Taggart knew each other, and that they exchanged money. We don't know what it was for, or if it was illicit in nature." Sharon tempered.

"Oh come on. They're not regular withdraws. They're cash back transactions. It's clear he meant for them not to be noticed. That's suspicious right there." Brenda pulled her glasses off and set them aside, before pressing her fists to her eyes, rubbing the fatigue away.

"Tomorrow, FID will question Taggart about these transactions. If he accepted money to look the other way on something, then he's looking at a full scale IA inquiry." Sharon said, putting the papers back into the file, and setting it to the side.

"You can't ask him about those! Not yet! We have to talk to Marc James first!" Brenda countered.

"What does Marc James have to do with the FID investigation, Brenda?" Sharon asked, evenly.

"Well, don't you think it's odd, that Marc James's baby sister gets killed in his family's business, his father is on his deathbed with cancer, and Marc James hasn't been around to say boo?"

"I suppose. But that still doesn't give me a reason not to speak with Taggart concerning his OIS, and these odd transactions." Sharon gingerly rubbed at the bruise on her face, wincing.

"Because, Captain, don't you think we should have a better idea of what those transactions are about, before we go asking about them? It's not as though we have to search the ends of the earth, after all, Taggart helpfully put Mr. James in the hospital with a well-placed bullet." Brenda sighed, leaning back against the couch cushion, and rolled the tension out of her shoulders.

"Brenda. The whole point of asking Officer Taggart is to _find out what the transactions are about._"

"Sharon. You should always know the answer to a question before you ask it."

"Is that so?" Sharon paused, thoughtfully. "Do you always know the answers to questions before you ask them?"

Brenda blinked, sensing a dangerous undertone to Sharon's question. She cleared her throat, and plowed ahead.

"When I'm interviewing a suspect, yes, I do. Unfortunately, the people in my day to day life are rarely as easy to dissect and solve as the criminals I deal with. So if you find me asking you a question, chances are, I sincerely want an answer."

Sharon nodded, letting her eyes drift back to the stacks of bank statements between them.

"Fine. We'll go talk to James first. You can do the main interview, but I want to be there, and I want to ask some questions of my own."

"We. You want to sit in on my interview again." Brenda couldn't help the incredulity from creeping into her tone.

"Yes. If you are going to do your usual methods of impeding an FID investigation by making it impossible for me to talk to Taggart before you talk to James, I thought I'd cut out all the drama, and go with you when you speak with James." Sharon shrugged, not understanding the glare Brenda was shooting in her direction.

"My _usual methods_ Captain? Just what are you implying?"

"That you, and your team, have a terrible habit of hiding files, withholding information, and purposely misdirecting the FID team when it suits you. Like, say, for example, sending us to the wrong hospital during an OIS last year?" Sharon arched a brow, narrowing her eyes.

"That was a mistake!" Brenda protested weakly.

"Well, let's not have any mistakes this time around. I'd like to think we can come to another understanding?" Sharon fairly purred, moving closer to Brenda on the couch.

Brenda started to respond, but found her lips otherwise occupied as the dark haired woman pulled her into a slow kiss.


	24. Chapter 24

Sharon's mouth was warm, and Brenda sank into the sensation of soft lips moving against her own. Sharon's hands drifted down, resting on her shoulders, then tracing the planes of her back as she pressed closer, deepening the kiss and the embrace, smiling as Brenda moaned, swallowing the sound.

Sharon leaned back on the blue upholstery, pulling Brenda to lay half on top of her, smoothing her hands down the angles of her back, letting her tongue trace lips, slickly. Brenda pulled back a little bit, breaking the kiss.

"This won't work, Captain. You can't distract me like this, and even if you could, I can't, because of your head." She held her weight on her arms, aware of the heat of Sharon's body beneath her.

"It was working just fine a minute ago, if I'm not mistaken." Sharon bent her leg at the knee, bringing her thigh to rest between Brenda's, smirking at the gasp she released.

"I'm serious. It's not that I don't want to," Brenda closed her eyes as Sharon pressed her thigh more firmly against her, then continued, "because god only knows how much I want," she dropped her head, capturing the dark haired woman's lips with her own, then pulling away again, before finishing, "but I have a responsibility to act like I have the sense my mama raised me with, and that means not doing anything that will make your concussion worse."

She shifted as though to get up, but found Sharon's hands holding her hips tightly, keeping her still.

"Brenda. I am a grown woman, perfectly capable of manging my own medical decisions, as well as…other things." She stared up at the blonde woman, green eyes flashing. "Besides. I rather enjoy a more personal…bedside manner."

Brenda bent down and laid a gentle kiss at the corner of Sharon's mouth.

"I think it's time for your pill, and then we can get some sleep, since we've been up since 4 in the morning."

Sharon growled, and let go of the Chief with one hand, trailing it around her hip, before working it into the waistband of the sweatpants Brenda wore. Brenda gasped as she felt Sharon's hand cupping her, and she thrust forward, settling herself firmly in Sharon's palm.

"I must go first, Chief. You will not interfere." Sharon's voice ran like bourbon straight to Brenda's core, hot and tingly as it travelled her veins. She used the hand still on Brenda's hip to guide the woman in a rocking motion, feeling the slippery evidence of her arousal clinging to her fingertips, as she moved them within Brenda.

"Oh, god. This is wrong, Sharon. I'm supposed to…" She trailed off as Sharon pressed her thumb roughly against her clit, moving her free hand to tangle in Brenda's hair, yanking her down for a kiss.

Brenda moved against the insistent fingers, feeling the pendulum motion of her breasts as they swung in her tee shirt. Even as she reveled in the sensations, she couldn't help remembering that this was the same couch where she'd had sex with her husband, while thinking of the woman who was currently buried knuckle deep within her. She felt a bolt of arousal through her, clenching her, as she remembered the ferocity of that orgasm, her dress haphazardly bunched around her waist, the scent of oranges in her nose, and the memory of Sharon's lip, the skin of her wrist, the quickness of her breathing as Brenda slid her hands along her leg. Brenda cried out, as Sharon pressed up into her, her tongue claiming the inside of her mouth, and she felt the world starting to come apart, as her nipples brushed against the soft cotton of her shirt, as the feel of Sharon's tongue in her mouth matched the rhythm set by the fingers playing her so swiftly, she felt herself press down on those fingers, squeezing them with her body, before the spasms shook her, as Sharon ran her hand from Brenda's hair, down to the small of her back, holding her still, through the aftershocks.

"I don't know why you argue with me, Chief. It never works out for you." Sharon whispered against her neck, relishing the weight of the woman laying on top of her.

"Captain? Do me a favor. Hush up, now." Brenda rasped back, her throat dry from the gasping.

Brenda rolled to the side, so that Sharon was forced to move closer to the back of the couch. The blonde woman smiled, a little, calculating smile. She leaned in, pressing kisses along Sharon's elegant jaw, before claiming her lips in a searing kiss.

"I like you in my clothes." She murmured, moving to kiss her way down Sharon's neck. "It's primal, or something. Like I've marked you as mine." She ran a hand beneath the tee shirt, skating her fingers over the bumps of Sharon's ribs, before swiping the pad of her thumb over the already pebbled nipple.

Sharon arched into her touch, and Brenda shoved the hem of the shirt up, letting her gaze wander across the soft lines of Sharon's stomach, the fullness of her breasts.

"Remember," Sharon gasped, as she watched Brenda's heated gaze, "I've had 2 kids. Not everything is where it started."

Brenda stared at Sharon, her hands stilling in their explorations.

"You're beautiful. And I'm pretty sure I told you to hush." Brenda dropped her head down, claiming a nipple in her mouth, feeling the foreign sensation of it hardening against her tongue.

Sharon moaned softly, and her hips bucked forward, involuntarily. Brenda flicked her tongue over the tip, then traced a circle, before sucking gently. Sharon tasted like spring, and yes, even oranges, as Brenda let her tongue draw a route between each dusky nipple, kissing and sucking the creamy flesh in between. She felt a surge of arousal, unexpected in its urgency, as Sharon moved against her, beneath her, small noises of pleasure falling from her lips. Brenda let her hand track over Sharon's supple belly, finding the waistband of the sweatpants, teasing the skin softly, before pressing her hand in, slipping swiftly into the heated damp, groaning as her fingers found themselves covered, sticky and sweet.

"Oh…Sharon. You're so wet!" Brenda whispered, a note of wonder in her voice.

"I told you I knew what I wanted, Chief." Sharon replied, letting her legs fall loosely, allowing Brenda better access.

"It's so…" Brenda couldn't find the words for the slickness beneath her hand, the ready proof that this wasn't a one-sided infatuation on her part. She moved her fingers gently, circling the hard nub, teasing, as Sharon pressed into her, her eyes closing briefly. Brenda leaned in, and let her tongue dance across the dusky peaks of Sharon's breasts, as she pressed her fingers in to the deep, pistoning her arm in a vague imitation of their elevator interlude. She let the heel of her palm stay pressed against Sharon's clit, giving her wrist a twist on each downstroke, as she moved faster, in rhythm with Sharon's hips. Brenda picked her head up, watching as Sharon's breath quickened, her breasts rising and falling, her lips parted wetly, as she met Brenda's hand, thrust for thrust. Brenda felt the wetness pooling in her own center, as she moved deeply within the dark-haired woman, teasing the spongy-soft walls, feeling the tension building beneath her palm.

"Hot." She gasped out, sliding a third finger in, nuzzling Sharon's throat. "It's so hot, making you feel good. It makes me want you more. Feeling you…feeling your wetness, it makes me wet too. Like I could come just by making you come." She crooked her fingers, feeling that sweet spot, and Sharon was clenching around her, swearing as she shook. Brenda laved her nipple, then kissed her soundly, still slowly moving her fingers, dragging out the orgasm, swallowing Sharon's soft moans.

"Indeed, Chief," Sharon intoned, propping herself up on an elbow, and meeting Brenda's gaze, "it's not as though I'm accustomed to half naked couch romps. You seem to inspire a certain…disregard for the rules, in me."

Brenda snorted, then rolled off the couch into a standing position.

"As your superior officer, I am issuing you a direct order, Captain." She crossed her arms, challenging Sharon. "Take. Your. Pain. Pill."

"Yes, Chief." Sharon clipped her words, scowling.

"And then, let's go to bed. For SLEEPING!" She clarified, seeing Sharon's slow grin start to spread. "In fact, I was going to make up the guest room, for you."

"Well, I assumed we wouldn't be sleeping in your marital bed, Brenda. That's just bad manners." Sharon scoffed, as Brenda handed her the pill and her water.

"We.." Brenda thought that through. "You want me to sleep with you?"

"Rather thought we'd done that, but it seems silly, if you're to wake me every 4 hours, for you to be in a different room, doesn't it?" Sharon blinked, setting her glass down.

"Right, that's true. You make a good point there. I just didn't want to…you know, make you feel uncomfortable."

"I sleep on the left." Sharon stood, and made her way to the steps.

"Of course you do." Brenda laughed, following behind, snapping off the lamp, and checking to make sure the dead bolt was engaged, before starting up the steps. "Of course you do."

* * *

AN: consider this my penance for leaving you guys hanging for so long. life got hectic, and i lost the muse, plus, you know, the closer hasn't been on to inspire me. but! the good news is, they're bringing mary mcdonnell on full time for the next season. dear lord. i cannot wait.


	25. Chapter 25

In the hallway at the top of the stairs, Brenda gestured towards the guest bathroom.

"There's a new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet in there. And I don't think anyone has used the toothpaste yet."

"Thank you." Sharon replied, formally.

"I'll just, uh, I'll use the en suite, and then, the guest room is that 2nd door there, next to the photo of me and Charlie, my niece." Brenda waved her hand again, then turned and stepped into the master bedroom.

Ignoring the rumpled sheets, she moved quickly into the en suite, shutting the door tightly behind her. What on earth was she doing? She squeezed some toothpaste on to her brush, and began to furiously clean her teeth. What if that woman woke up and wanted to kiss in the middle of the night? How long did a person have to be asleep before "morning breath" became an issue? She spat a foamy mouthful into the sink, then resumed brushing, and thinking. Generally, Brenda waited before becoming intimate. Generally, she was a tease, and preferred to make her suitors want her more, by making them wait. Sharon was…different. Brenda felt as though the very geography of her life had shifted this morning, in that elevator, with those slender fingers finding entirely novel landscapes, rendering her old maps useless. Rinsing her mouth with water, and dabbing her face on the floral-patterned towel to the left of the sink, she turned and scowled at the toilet. The seat was still up. For all of his grumping about her shoes and dishes, it occurred to her suddenly, that she wasn't the only one responsible for the demise of the marriage. Fritz had his unfortunate habits as well, and Brenda sighed with slight relief. It wasn't just Sharon. It was everything, the housekeeping, the cats, her parents. Brenda wasn't leaving Fritz for another woman, she realized. She was leaving Fritz because they didn't work together anymore. Maybe they never had.

Sharon walked into the guest room, surprised at the rumpled state of the lavender bedclothes, as though they'd been slept on recently. She stepped around to the left side of the bed, ready to sink into the bone-deep weariness that finally caught up with her, when she noticed something. Shoving the pillow aside, she pulled out…a blouse? She shook it out, realizing it was the blouse Brenda had been wearing yesterday. Yesterday, in the stairwell. When the damn had broken, so to speak. Sharon held the blouse to her face, noticing that, beneath the unique scent of Brenda, she could detect the faint sting of orange oil. Just then, Brenda walked into the room, spilling apologies about the state of the guestroom. She glanced up and saw Sharon clutching her blouse, a surprised kind of smile quirking her lips.

"That's uh. That's mine." Brenda said, softly.

"It is. This is, after all, your house." Sharon grinned, tossing the blouse across the bed to the startled blonde.

Brenda caught the blouse easily, and turned to chuck it into the master bedroom, meaning to move it to the hamper in the bathroom later, when Sharon spoke again.

"It was under your pillow. Though I've seen your desk, and the inside of your tote bag, I have a hard time believing you store your dirty laundry in your bed." Her eyebrow raised, a challenge.

"It must've gotten tangled up in the sheets last night. I do sometimes employ a hamper." Brenda huffed in reply.

Blinking, Sharon nodded, then settled herself on the bed, folding her legs under her. She took off her glasses, laying them down with a click on the bedside table.

"That means you slept in here last night." Sharon said softly, turning to Brenda.

"I did."

"But, this is the guest room. And I thought Fritz left last night?" Sharon pressed.

"I just couldn't…sleep in that room. Not when everything was so different. I don't expect you to understand." Brenda sat down, pulling her legs up in front of her.

"I understand more than you give me credit for, Brenda." Sharon whispered, laying down and pulling the covers up. "Good night."

Brenda stared at Sharon for a moment, the wild mess of her hair tangling across the pillow, copper contrasting starkly with lavender. She snapped of the light, and slid beneath the covers, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the woman on the mattress next to her, the hint of oranges in the air.

"Good night, Sharon." Brenda murmured, before turning away, on her side. She wanted to move closer, to wrap herself around Sharon like a caduceus, but the inches of space between them felt like miles. Her thighs ached, a testament to how close they'd been earlier, and she wished they'd waited until now, to tangle themselves up in pleasure. If they'd waited, she could fall asleep with her arm around Sharon, and it wouldn't be invasive, wouldn't be too forward if she twined their fingers together. She muffled a sigh, a peculiar tightness in her throat.

"You're a cuddler, aren't you?" Came that whiskey voice through the darkness.

"Pardon?" Brenda replied, having the momentary panicked thought that Sharon might be able to read minds.

"You're stiff as a board. I assume it's because you're resisting the urge to _spoon._" Sharon drew out the last word, making it sound vaguely unpleasant.

"It's all right. I just want you to get the rest you need, so you can get back to work in the morning." Brenda realized she hadn't actually answered the question, but she hoped Sharon would be too sleepy to notice.

"Brenda. Come here." Sharon's tone was commanding, what Brenda was coming to think of as her 'work voice'.

She scooted across the bed, and felt Sharon moving to meet her half way, the solid heat of her back pressing against Brenda's breasts, the curve of her backside fitting flush against Brenda's thighs. She draped an arm over Sharon's waist, pulling the woman tightly against her, and let out a shaky laugh.

"How do you always know?" She wondered aloud.

"As I said. I understand more than you give me credit for." Sharon replied dryly.

"Point taken, Cap'n," Brenda chuckled, placing a kiss on Sharon's shoulder, "I won't underestimate you again."

"Good night, Brenda." Sharon said, stifling a yawn.

"G'night,." Brenda breathed in the citrus scent of the woman in her arms, and decided not to worry about tomorrow. Fritz, and Pope, and the application for LAPD Chief could wait.

There was an insistent ringing in Brenda's ear. She rolled over, clapping a pillow over her head, but that did nothing to mute the tone. Peeking out from beneath the pillow, she noted that the clock glowed 1:30. Shifting, she reached for it, and smacked the alarm button. Turning back, she propped herself on her elbow, and let her eyes roam over Sharon's prone form. She'd kicked off the heavier cover sometime during the night, and the thin sheet draped gracefully over her body. Her face was calmer, her mouth more relaxed than Brenda had ever seen. She looked…not younger, exactly, but more youthful. Her hair was somehow still perfect, even as it spilled wildly off the pillow, a tousle of soft curls. Brenda hated to wake her, but that was the whole point of this unconventional slumber party, so she reached out, gently shaking Sharon's shoulder, softly calling her name. Sharon sighed, and turned away, mumbling incoherently. Brenda tried again, shaking her more firmly, and leaning in, placing a chaste kiss behind her ear.

"Sharon, you have to wake up, or you're going to miss your deadline for the case!" Brenda said in a low voice.

Sharon sat bolt upright, causing Brenda to move back quickly to avoid an unfortunate collision of heads.

"What? What time is it?" She asked, blinking sleepily at the clock.

"It's 1:30 in the morning, Sharon. You've got plenty of time left on your deadline, but I needed you to wake up so I could check your condition." Brenda giggled, continuing, "You should've seen your face, though. I've never seen such abject terror!"

Sharon sighed, and rubbed her hand over the tender bump on the back of her head, wincing. Brenda caught her hand, and traced the lump with gentle fingers.

"Do you think you're ready for another pill?" She asked, smoothing Sharon's hair back into place.

"I think, perhaps, that would be wise. Better to take them now, when I'm supposed to be asleep, than later, when I've got to be sharp." Sharon replied.

Brenda climbed out of bed, and went downstairs, the wooden steps cool beneath her bare feet. She used the light filtering through the sheer curtains to guide her to her purse, and she snagged the pill, then padded to the kitchen to fill a glass with water. On the way back, she peered at the pill bottle, then grabbed it, deciding that she wasn't going to keep trekking down here. Making her way back up the steps, she grinned to herself. Sharon Raydor was in her bed. Though the circumstances that had brought that about were grim, Brenda felt like skipping the last few steps to the guest room, because Sharon Raydor, unflappable, gorgeous, and dead sexy, was in her bed. Turning the corner, she schooled her features into a neutral mask, and walked into the room. Sharon was leaning back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling fan. Brenda sat down next to her, and handed her the pill and the glass of water. Sharon took the pill, then looked at the bed side table.

"No coaster?" She asked, looking around.

"Ahh. No. I never remember to use them, and they just take up table space. 'Sides, my mama taught me you can get water rings off with a little bit of mayo. So put the glass down, and come back over here to me."

Sharon set the glass down, and looked over at the blonde woman, who was propped up on one elbow, staring up at her. In the moonlight, her hair seemed almost white, and her mouth, a dark line of promise. She slid down under the covers, feeling the warmth from Brenda's body as she moved closer. She didn't quite understand how she'd ended up here, of all places. But as the pain pill started to fray her consciousness, she wondered how a romance forged in antagonism and urgency could ever have a happy ending. She wondered if her inevitable heartbreak was worth these few moments of bliss.


	26. Chapter 26

Brenda blinked sleepily, fumbling for the snooze button. She felt the bed shift, and glanced back to see Sharon swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, her back rigid with tension.

"Mornin'. How's your head?"

"It's fine, thank you," Sharon replied stiffly, standing up.

Brenda watched as Sharon walked towards the bedroom door, her jaw resolutely set. As she reached the threshold, Brenda spoke.

"What's changed, Cap'n?"

"Nothing. But we have a long day, and I'd like to get moving as soon as possible. I'm usually in the office by 7:30, and I still need to get home, to shower and dress. You've been very…kind, and I'm grateful for your assistance in getting me out of the hospital, but I'm fine now, and I should be going."

Brenda sat up, sighing. She ran her hand over her face, in an attempt to clear away the last bits of sleep, and realized with a jolt that her fingers still carried a lingering trace of sex.

"Sharon. I'm not sure what's going on, but this…you can't just walk... I know I'm not imagining things. What happened?"

"Things always look different in the morning, Chief. Now, I have to get home, so that I can go to work. I'll see you at the office, and we can figure out when we'll be visiting Marc James."

Sharon walked out of the room, and Brenda heard the steady thump of her footsteps as they descended the stairs. A few short moments later, she heard the click of the lock, and then the final thud of the front door closing. She flopped back on the pillow, and draped her arm over her eyes, pressing away the headache that loomed behind them. The house was quiet, only the hum of the central air unit, and the sound of her breathing broke the silence. She laid there, until the buzz of the alarm broke into her thoughts. She sat up, turning it from 'snooze' to off, and noticed that Sharon had left without her pain killers. She picked up the bottle, tracing Sharon's name on the label, then stood up and stalked out of the room. She slammed the bottle on the newel-post , and went to start her shower, and her day.

Later that morning, she perched on the corner of Provenza's desk, as her team updated her on their findings. Marc Jacobs was due to be released from the hospital later in the afternoon, at which point he'd be brought to the station, which caused Brenda to scowl blackly at her team. That meant there'd be no need to car pool with Raydor, which meant she wouldn't have a chance to get the woman alone to figure out what the hell had happened. This was why she waited. This was why she'd let Pope, and her ex-husband, and Fritz do the chasing. This was why she never, ever gave into her feelings before she was sure. Brenda hated uncertainty. There was never a question asked unless she knew the answer first, and with Raydor, Brenda didn't have any answers, but so very many questions. She pushed off of the desk with a huff, and started towards her office. She couldn't deal with the guys right now, especially since Provenza and Flynn were arguing about the latest…something…with sports. Baseball, perhaps? Whatever, it grated.

Sitting down at her desk, she glowered at her phone, daring it to ring. It didn't. She pulled open her candy drawer, and almost screamed in frustration. In all of the chaos, she STILL hadn't gone shopping. The Twizzlers mocked her. Snatching up her purse, she rummaged through and found a handful of change. She shoved her chair back, and stalked to the vending machine, praying for a Reese Cup. Rounding the corner, she slammed the coins into the slot, and pressed the buttons for the Reese Cup, the last one. The metal spiral slid into action, twisting her salvation closer, and closer, and then…it stuck. Brenda let her forehead slump onto the cool Plexiglass barrier.

"Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit!" She groaned, pounding a fist on the machine in time with her words.

"Is there something I can help you with, Chief Johnson?"

Brenda actually flinched at the heat that flared through her at the sound of Sharon's voice, before turning around to level her scowl at the Captain.

"No. But you can come by my desk sometime in the next 10 minutes to pick up the pain killers you forgot this morning." She resisted the urge to point out that the 6 hours was well and up, and she could tell, by the tight lines framing the dark haired woman's face, that she was in some not insignificant pain.

"Fine, Chief. I'll meet you there." Sharon replied tersely, spinning on her heel and moving towards the tiny kitchenette.

Brenda watched her walk away, forcing her gaze not to drop to those generous hips in that wool skirt. Dear lord. It was a _short _wool skirt. As Sharon made her way into the kitchenette, Brenda found herself trailing behind, with no clear plan of action, except to solve the more immediate case of Sharon Raydor.

"Captain." She murmured, moving in to stand just behind her, close enough to let her breath ghost across the Captain's ear. She could sense, more than feel, the slight quiver that ran through Sharon's body, before the woman stilled herself, and her body resumed the rigid posture she'd had in the bedroom that morning. Brenda tried again.

"I was wondering if you'd like to get a coffee with me." She said, still close enough to let her words breeze across Sharon's skin, then, remembering the last time they'd been in this kitchenette, she leaned over to grab a mug from the cabinet, letting her body press against Sharon's back, fighting back the sigh of pleasure that threatened to escape as her breasts met the solid presence, sliding as she reached upward for the handle of the cup.

"I would have gotten out of your way, Chief Johnson." Sharon said quietly, stepping to the side.

"I know. But I didn't ask you, to get out of my way, Cap'n Raydor. Unless you would prefer to be out of my way, in which case, I'll be taking my coffee in my office. If you think you're being polite by moving without being asked, well then by all means, have a seat, and let's have a cup of coffee, and figure out what we're doing with Mr. James today." Brenda hoped her veiled references would render clearly for Sharon, and they could move past whatever roadblock she'd constructed in her mind. She poured her coffee, and sat down at the small table beyond the coffee counter, clutching her mug, and peering at Sharon from beneath her lashes, waiting to see what she'd decide.

Sharon stood with her back to Brenda, stirring her coffee. She knew that this was Brenda's way of giving her a pass, a chance to move forward without any lengthy conversation about her behavior, but she just couldn't bring herself to sit down at the table. Sitting down meant admitting that this meant more than sex. Sitting down meant admitting that falling asleep wrapped in the warmth of Brenda's arms had been the best night's sleep she'd had since she'd divorced 8 years back. And she couldn't do that, because Brenda was going to apply to be the Chief of the LAPD. And that meant that they couldn't keep this…whatever it was, up. So Sharon turned, and walked to the table. She stopped by Brenda's side, and laid her hand on Brenda's shoulder, briefly, feeling the heat of her skin, and the edge of her bones, beneath her palm. Squeezing gently, she looked down, meeting Brenda's gaze an apology in her eyes like a lie, like a promise, and then she walked out of the kitchenette, leaving Brenda sitting with a cup of coffee she wasn't really interested in drinking.

Brenda watched her go, stared at the door long after the Captain was gone from view. She sat there, until Gabriel came to find her, explaining that they'd managed to figure out that both the wounded James kid, and the partner, had been paying off Officer Taggart. Brenda dumped her cup into the sink, never having taken a sip, and followed Gabriel back to the murder room.

She tried to stay focused as Tao explained what they'd found, and she idly wondered if they'd told FID about it. Shrugging her shoulders, she scoffed mentally. Captain Raydor had made it clear that it was back to business as usual, so Brenda went on with her investigation like she normally would. Nobody bothered to pass their discoveries onto FID, as they worked towards solving the crime, and Brenda was glad to have Gabriel back at her right hand.

Together, they interviewed Marc, and Jerome, and realized that the two men had both felt like the patriarch of the James family never saw them as real men. They'd been helping the local gang-bangers launder money through the restaurant, and Taggart had figured it out. They'd cut him in, and he kept quiet, until their father fell ill, and they discovered his intention to pass the business on to Alessia. When they conspired with local thugs to make it look like Alessia had been the victim of a robbery, Taggart hadn't been apprised of the plan, so his instinctive response to the shots fired threw quite the wrench in things. Brenda sat across from Marc, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You conspired to have your sister murdered in cold blood, because you didn't want her to be your boss?"

"She was the baby! How she gonna run things better than me, or Rome, or even my brother?" Marc glared, crossing his arms.

"Guess we'll never know, will we?" Brenda replied, standing up, and moving towards the door. "But I hope you feel like the big man now. I have to go tell your father what you've done. Tell him that he's effectively lost two children, as he lays on his deathbed. So you think about that, while they're booking you."

Stepping out into the hall, she nodded to the uniformed officer standing by to arrest Marc. As he moved into the room, she leaned against the wall, and pinched the bridge of her nose, hating the task that loomed in front of her. She was so lost in thought, that she failed to hear the purposeful click of heels across the floor, until the black, peep toe Chanel shoes were suddenly in her line of sight. She glanced up to find Sharon looking like something that might pass for concerned, if Brenda thought she actually cared.

"Something you needed, Cap'n?" She drawled, dangerously softly.

"Well, Chief, I sat in the media room during that most informative interview. You almost seemed to know what he was going to say." Sharon paused, then continued. "I also heard you mention that you were going to have to inform the father. If you'd prefer, I can handle that aspect of the case."

"That aspect of the case has nothing to do with your department, Captain. If you'll excuse me?" Brenda pushed off from the wall and stalked back towards her office, trying to decide if the mini-mart up the street from the restaurant was a good place to stock up on candy, or if she should go the 8 blocks out of her way and hit that good little store. She wasn't thinking about Sharon Raydor, and the warmth in her eyes as she'd made that offer. She was thinking about a York Peppermint Patty, not the salty taste of Sharon Raydor's skin. Because Sharon Raydor had made it clear that she'd gotten all she'd expected, and now it was business as usual.

So Brenda dragged Gabriel to the James' residence, and laid out the whole sordid plot from end to end. She sat quietly by as they sobbed, then answered their inevitable questions. Gabriel stood stoically near the door, and Brenda thought briefly that Sharon might have sat next to her, letting their shoulders touch in support. Shaking off that thought, she patted Mr. James on the hand, apologizing for his losses one last time, before making her way back over to the door. Gabriel opened it for her, gesturing her through, and then followed, pulling the door closed behind him. They walked to the car in silence, and drove most of the way back to the station before he spoke.

"Sometimes, you have to be the bigger person, even if you don't feel like it." He kept his eyes on the road, not giving any indication that Brenda was even in the car. "Sometimes, the people who push you away the hardest, are the ones who need you the most." He continued, still keeping his eyes straight ahead, even as Brenda stared at him. "If it's worth anything, then it's worth the effort." He finished, nodding his head slightly.

"Did you memorize a series of fortune cookies, Detective?" Brenda snapped, wondering what exactly he was on about.

"No ma'am, I did not, Chief. But we've worked together a long time, now. Coming up on 7 years. Might be your longest relationship yet, right? And I know that there's something different, And even though I don't spend much time around the FID people, there's something different with the Captain as well. If rumors are to be believed, you let her stay the night at your place, rather than in the hospital. But now you're distracted, and irritable. Can't say I see much different about the Captain in that regard, but, she's got that look you get when you lose something you didn't mean to lose. And, after all, I DID make detective, didn't I?"

Brenda let out a small chuckle at that, but said nothing further, choosing instead to stare out the window, wondering how exactly she was supposed to fight for something she couldn't define.


	27. Chapter 27

Three full days passed, and Sharon didn't see Brenda at all. Three full days, and she'd almost convinced herself that she'd overblown her feelings. Three full days, and she'd only thought of Brenda a few times…every hour. Though she knew it was for the best, she couldn't help feeling disappointed that the ornery woman hadn't spent more effort pushing to find out what had happened. Sharon didn't relish the idea of the conversation, but it still stung to know that the Chief had made that one cursory effort in the kitchen, and then gone back to business as usual. Sharon scoffed at herself, and turned back to the file she was reviewing, crossing her legs, her Prada pump dangling from the end of her slender foot.

Brenda sat in her office, peering into her candy stash. She'd pushed Gabriel into stopping at the good store, the one that was out of the way, but that carried Ding Dongs and Suzie Qs and all manner of sinful treats. But for three days, she hadn't been able to eat any of it. She pulled a Kit Kat out, and held it forlornly between two fingers, before tossing it back in the drawer. That woman had ruined chocolate. And it was probably going to end up getting Brenda fired. She'd been irritable, but when she'd pulled the first Ding Dong out of the drawer, and bit into it, she realized that what she was actually craving was that woman's kiss. She'd thrown the Ding Dong away, and then demanded that her team stay overtime to solve a case, without asking for permission. The second day, she'd tried a Reese's cup, and it too fell short, causing her to lash out at Pope and insult his recent weight gain. Today was the third day of her no-contact rule, and the beginning of her third day with no candy. She was rightfully nervous that it might end up being her last day on the job, if something didn't give. She was just about to slam the candy drawer shut, when she noticed the corner of a manila folder peeking out from beneath a Snickers bar. She tugged it loose from the candy prison, and opened it on her desk. Sharon's fluid handwriting filled the page. The application for Chief. Brenda stood up so fast, her chair shot back, slamming into the credenza behind her. She stalked out of the office, and headed to personnel. Handing in the application, she felt a perverse sense of satisfaction that the last vestiges of her fling with Sharon were out of her office. Maybe now candy could taste good again.

Sharon stood in the elevator, glaring at the number panel. The doors slid open, three floors away from her destination, and there stood Brenda. The women blinked at each other, and then Brenda spun on her heel, ready to take the stairs. Sharon reached out, letting her fingertips settle just above Brenda's elbow.

"I think we can share the lift, don't you?" She repeated her words from weeks before, hoping to break the ice.

"Are you trying to be funny, or do you enjoy rubbing salt in the wound, Sharon? I don't know how I'm supposed to react." Brenda stepped on to the elevator, deciding that at the very least, they ought to hash things out, so at least they could return to the professional animosity they'd engaged in before Brenda had lost her mind.

"I'm sorry." Sharon spoke quietly, hoping that those words would cover the myriad of things she had to apologize for.

"It's fine, Cap'n. Water under the bridge and all that. I just dropped off my application for Chief. Where are you headed?" Brenda stared ahead, hoping that her voice would remain steady, and not betray the tightness in her throat.

"Vice. They've got an OIS, and I have to interview the partner. Listen, Brenda, I just wanted to say that—"

"Don't. I really, really don't think I can listen to what you have to say about anything other than work things. Give me that, at least?" Brenda's voice cracked just a bit on her last words, and she squeezed her eyes closed, willing the tears to stay unshed.

"Oh god." Sharon stared at the rigid profile Brenda presented, and wanted to wrap the woman into a tight embrace, letting the apologies spill forth without any regard to the consequences of falling for your superior officer. She wanted to smooth that blonde hair back, and press kisses to her forehead, soothing away the worry lines with her lips.

Instead, she punched the button for the next floor, and when the doors opened, she fled, leaving Brenda standing in the elevator with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her eyes still closed.

Brenda heard the elevator doors open and close. She noted that the sting of oranges was no longer oppressively strong. She opened one eye, and verified that she was alone in the elevator. And then she let out one angry sob, as her throat constricted around the lump that had been lurking for the last three days, her tenuous hold on her emotions finally breaking. Damn her! It wasn't even the sex, although Brenda knew she'd barely tapped the surface in that regard. But she also knew that she'd barely tapped the surface of finding out who Sharon was as a woman, instead of as an officer. And the indications thus far, had been a woman that Brenda very easily found herself falling for. She'd thought Sharon felt the same. That night, after the standoff with the INS agent, she'd seen something in Sharon's eyes, in that unguarded moment before they'd kissed. That was what had given her the courage to continue on, and now, as it turned out, she'd been wrong. Brenda wasn't comfortable not knowing the answers to questions before she asked them, and this right here? This feeling of being out of control, and at the mercy of another person's whim? This was why. Angrily, she shoved her fists into her eyes, wiping the tears away, and cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders. That would be the last tear she shed for Sharon Raydor, and that was that. And then maybe when she was Chief, she'd ponder the _usefulness_ of FID. Of course it was an essential department. But it might be fun, just to make her sweat a little bit. Brenda let a small smile ghost across her lips at the thought, and by the time the elevator opened onto Major Crimes, she'd fully regained her composure. And she had a mean craving for a Ding Dong.

AN: so, okay, you had to know the angst wasn't going to resolve in a chapter, right? but they'll get it together. you just have to stick it out, kay? also, reviews make the angst go away faster. lulz.


	28. Chapter 28

Brenda peered over Buzz's shoulder in the media room of Major Crimes, watching the surveillance footage from outside Judy Lynch's apartment. It seemed they'd gotten lucky, and gotten 'Dreamweaver' on tape, just not his face. She was watching as he stood in front of his Camaro, when Chief Pope poked his head into the room.

"Brenda? Can I have a word?" He asked, in a tone that belied the question mark.

Brenda sighed, and took her glasses off, before stalking over to him, and pulling the door shut behind her.

"You are scheduled for your final interview with the mayor tomorrow. What exactly, are you doing?" He snapped.

"I caught a murder this morning. I am doing my job. I still have plenty of time to prepare!" Brenda replied, resisting the urge to snap.

"You have a day. A day, which you seem determined to spend solving this murder. You've almost got the guy. Let Commander Taylor take it from here." Pope turned, and started to walk away.

Brenda heaved a sigh, staring after him, knowing she was supposed to follow, but she just couldn't make her feet move. She'd submitted the application in a temper fit. She loved her job. She loved solving crimes. Being out in the field. Sitting behind a desk, pushing papers would kill her. Though, it might make Fritz happy, not that that mattered anymore. She'd called him a few weeks back, when the weight of the loneliness got to be too much to bear. He'd been in Washington, fortunately, and their short conversation ended on a sour note when she heard a woman's voice in the background. Rationally, she knew it shouldn't bother her. Logically, she knew that they were over, and that she was reaching out for the familiar, instead of what she really wanted. Still, it rankled that he'd moved on so quickly, despite everything.

"Brenda? What's wrong?" Pope's voice cut into her reverie.

"What if I don't want to be chief?" She asked quietly.

"I don't even…come with me." Pope took her arm, and marched her down the hall to his office.

Pushing open the door, he placed his hand on the small of Brenda's back, and propelled her into the office ahead of him. She stopped short at the sight of Sharon Raydor standing near the window.

"Oh! Captain Raydor!" she exclaimed.

"Chief, thanks for making the time." Sharon replied, a tight smile on her face.

"Well, let's hope we're not wasting it." Brenda answered sharply.

"It seems we've been wasting Captain Raydor's time, as she's spent the last few weeks coming up with practice questions so you can be prepared for the interview." Pope huffed, moving to stand behind his desk. "So when you say you're not interested in the job, it's very disappointing."

Brenda could see Sharon nodding out of the corner of her eye, and felt the anger boiling up inside. She directed her wrath at the handiest target.

"Didn't you tell me yourself that I had no real chance at being Chief?" she reminded him of the conversation they'd had after she submitted the application.

Sharon looked stunned.

"Didn't you say you were just 'permitting me to submit an application—" she continued, as both Pope and Raydor began to speak.

"Excuse me? _Permission?_" Raydor said incredulously.

"Look I—" Pope began.

"PERMISSION?" Sharon said, her voice rising.

"That's not—that's not what I said"

"Yes you did! You said you'd let me apply as some sort of stalking horse!" Brenda was caught up in the heady awareness that the Captain was outraged on her behalf. She watched as Sharon drew herself up to her full height, peering at Will over her glasses.

"You did not!" Sharon glared at Pope, crossing her arms.

"Look, I did not give her permission." He cleared his throat, and sat down, smoothing his tie nervously. "I think we can all agree that there were some flaws in my campaign to be chief. For one thing, I'm no longer in the running." He leaned forward, tenting his elbows on the desk.

Sharon sat down, and Brenda could feel her gaze, but she kept her eyes on the scuff on the corner of the desk in front of her, refusing to give in to the urge to make eye contact.

"But it is now in my best interest, " Pope continued, "in all of our best interests, that the Mayor appoint you as our next boss. And if you just quit now—"

"People will think you're hiding something." Commander Taylor interjected.

Brenda jumped, turning in her seat. She'd been so startled by the Captain's presence, she hadn't even noticed the Commander leaning against the conference table.

"Or worse, they'll think you're a flake." Sharon's voice was low, and smooth, and still shot heat straight to Brenda's center. "Or like you broke under pressure. Whatever you do, you can't cancel this meeting. And you can't reschedule." She turned in her seat, facing Brenda, their knees almost touching.

"You'd know all about breaking under pressure." Brenda muttered, so low that only Sharon heard.

"Because when the Mayor calls for a meeting with his chief, he expects him—or her—to show up." Pope explained.

"Well, when people are smothered to death in their homes, they expect me to show up too!" Brenda replied hotly.

"Look, I don't know what it was like in Atlanta, honey, but when you apply for chief of police in Los Angeles, and you don't get the job, there are big consequences." Sharon knew that the endearment would come off as sarcastic to Pope and Taylor, but she pressed her knee against Brenda's to let her know that she was still on her side.

"Yeah, starting with me getting fired." Pope pouted, leaning back in his chair.

"You don't know that." Brenda said gently, before shifting her legs to the other side of the chair, away from the addictive heat of Sharon's skin.

"And then every success he's had will be dismantled, " Taylor cut in smoothly, "starting with, oh, say, Major Crimes."

"Chief, if you don't at least attend this final interview, the women of the LAPD will be completely demoralized," Sharon kept her voice low, as Brenda turned to look at her for the first time since she'd entered the room, "and some of them may never forgive you. Ever." Her brow arched, driving her point home.

Brenda glanced around the room, to avoid looking at the Captain any longer.

"Well, can't I just skip the whole prep part? Can't I just go to the interview tomorrow, and, you know, be myself?" She asked desperately.

"That's a terrible idea." Sharon replied immediately, knowing that if Pope agreed, she'd never get any alone time with Brenda. And she knew that they needed to talk, if only so that Brenda wouldn't throw this opportunity away.

Just then, Detective Gabriel entered the room, and explained that they'd found out that Dreamweaver was due to have another date that very afternoon. Sharon held back a smile as Brenda grudgingly turned over the reign of the investigation to Commander Taylor. Gabriel and Taylor left the room, and Brenda spun on her heel, facing Pope and Raydor.

"Fine. Fine. I'll be in my office, once you two finish creating my persona."


	29. Chapter 29

Sharon knew, as she walked down the hallway to Brenda's office, that this was not going to be easy. Probably not even pleasant, but certainly not easy. At least now she knew why Pope had been so resistant to the proposal that he be the one to prep Brenda for this interview. She scowled again at the idea of him giving Brenda _permission_ to do anything. Steeling herself, she knocked on the door to Brenda's office, then pushed it open.

Brenda looked up, and frowned. She'd been standing by the window, her tote-sized purse over one arm, pondering making her escape before anyone came looking. She turned, and blurted the first thing that popped into her head.

"What makes tomorrow better than any other day, anyway?" She cringed internally at how whiny she sounded.

Sharon blinked, slightly overwhelmed at Brenda's legs beneath that terrible floral skirt, and then she got her bearings. Pacing, she pulled her glasses off, and gave Brenda a searing once over, relishing the blush that rose immediately to her cheeks.

"Because tomorrow, the Mayor will have finished interviewing the other 4 applicants, all of whom are male," she replied, leaning her hands on a small conference table, and sweeping her eyes back up to meet Brenda's "and I think you'll make for a _vivid_ contrast."

Sharon knew she was treading dangerously close to a line, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. The subtext just seemed to burst forth, no matter how hard she tried to hold herself in check. She pushed her glasses back on to her nose, and stood up straight, with her hands on her hips. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought to herself, and continued on.

"I think that _we _should capitalize on your feminine strengths."

Brenda wasn't so easily cajoled, however, and her retort was sharp and terse.

"Which are?"

Sharon realized flirting wasn't going to make this any easier. She fell back to the familiar routine of antagonism.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Chief, because I have always admired how little you care about…current fashion….and the—that purse," Sharon held her hand out, expectantly, then snapped her fingers impatiently when Brenda failed to hand it over, "the purse. See, this purse helps people underestimate you. Criminals, especially, and that's good. But with the _Mayor_, he's somebody you really want to impress. So I was wondering if you want to—"

"You know Captain, I have a lot of nice clothes. I just don't like to _overdress_ at work!" Brenda interjected, giving the dark haired woman a once over of her own, arching a brow at the Chanel pantsuit, forcing her eyes not to linger on the delicious expanse of skin exposed by the few buttons that remained unfastened at the top of Sharon's blouse.

"Well, and there's no one that would accuse you of that, but we want the Mayors first impression of you to be as a woman capable of handling a lot of power. To look at you and think something like, "Wow!", Brenda." Sharon leaned back on the desk, and leveled her gaze at the Chief, feeling the familiar tug in her chest as their eyes met.

"Because I'm a woman?" Brenda queried, sitting down behind her desk.

"No. No no." Sharon replied, taking the chair across from Brenda, trying not to think about her lips. "Most candidates for chief run popularity contests, Chief, and you're not especially political, well liked, or even friendly."

Brenda snagged her purse, and began rooting through it, stoically ignoring the dark haired woman sitting across from her, and also the ache in her center that said woman had ignited. She found her compact, and pulled it out, largely to give herself something to do with her hands, so she wouldn't launch herself across the desk, and act on her baser instincts.

"I'm not interested in politics." She ground out.

"No, and so you won't blame the Mayor for the LAPD's budgetary crises, or or publicly demand that he fix it." Sharon watched as Brenda dabbed that atrocious pink lipstick across those talented lips and something in her snapped a little, when Brenda purposefully popped her lips, and glanced up.

Reaching across the table, Sharon took that damnable purse, and tossed it in the seat next to her, then sat heavily back down, before continuing.

"There is a reason that this is a short meeting in the afternoon, because all the mayor really wants to know is how the two of you will get along." Sharon's voice was lower now, as she fought against her desire to kiss the blonde woman senseless. "Think of it as a…chemistry test," she continued.

"A chemistry test, Cap'n, really?" Brenda groaned.

"Yes. To make sure that you two work well together." Sharon answered, shaking her hair back over her shoulder.

"Uh huh. And what happens if I think we work well together, but the MAYOR just decides to go a whole other direction? What will the _women of the LAPD_ think of me then, Cap'n?" Brenda stood up, stalking over to the window.

Sharon flinched, realizing that everything up until this point had been the easy part.

"Sometimes, Chief, it's good to wonder what people will think of you. To think beyond the immediate moment, and examine the future implications of your actions. " Sharon fairly whispered.

Brenda whirled around, pinning Sharon with a fierce look.

"You think I'm reckless." She accused.

"You are." Sharon agreed.

"Not about things that matter. When the rules matter, I follow them, unless there's a really compelling reason not to." Brenda stepped closer to Sharon, her voice softening. "But it has to be a really, really compelling reason. I suppose, though, some people follow rules, even at the expense of everything else. I might be reckless, but at least I'm not rigid." Despite herself, Brenda felt the hurt and anger.

"There's safety in routine, Chief. Surety." Sharon stood, and paced away from Brenda, before turning back. "Besides which, everybody knows, the rebound never lasts. What would have had me do? Stick around until you broke my heart to assuage your own ego?" She burst out, surprising herself.

Brenda's jaw actually dropped, and she blinked twice, trying to process those wholly unexpected words. Just then, there was a knock on her door, and Commander Taylor entered, holding a folder like a shield.

"Little update, Chief." He chirped, looking perplexed as Sharon threw her hands up in the air in exasperation, and Brenda spun around, walking back to her chair.

"Right, pardon me," Brenda nodded to Sharon, and then turned back to the Commander.

"We got our DNA sample from Torres, and it's off to the lab. We also matched fingerprints off his car to those in the victim's apartment. Now, Tao thinks he might've paused outside Judy's building because someone keyed his car while he was inside. We don't know. But we have a problem." Taylor fiddled with his tie, as he spoke.

"What's that?" Brenda sighed.

"Marc Torres is on another date." The Commander had the good grace to look sheepish.

"What?" Brenda cried.

"The young lady was waiting for him on a corner in Larchmont village. We don't know who she is or where she came from. What we do know is that he took her to dinner and a movie."

"Just like Judy." Brenda pushed her hair back from her forehead. "And now?"

"Now he's just parked beneath an apartment building on Melrose. It's not his home address." Taylor shifted his stance, nervously.

Sharon could see Brenda's posture change as she shifted gears, back into her 'detective' mode. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the table.

"Chief, you've already given—"

"One second, one second!" Brenda waved her off. "Commander, under no circumstances is Marc Torres to be left alone with another woman in her apartment."

"Got it. Thank you." The Commander turned on his heel and left.

Brenda shut the door behind him, and turned to face the dark haired woman.

"Is that what you really think?" She asked softly.

"I'm sorry, what? Is what what I really think?" Sharon was having a hard time following the abrupt conversational lane change.

"That you—that we were a rebound? That it didn't mean anything? Is that why you ran?"

"I don't run. I didn't run, Brenda. I just know when to walk away from the table while I'm still ahead." Sharon stared at some point behind Brenda's left shoulder.

"Is that right? Because I'm still here. I'm all in, if you'd like to be dealt another hand, Captain. But I can't promise there will be a seat open at this table forever, so you need to decide what you want to do. And it would be nice if, in the future, you want to change the rules? You could always give me a little heads up." Brenda crossed halfway across the room, and stopped, waiting.

"What, exactly, are you saying. Because you realize that if you become chief of the LAPD, then it won't matter. You can't have a secret tryst with a subordinate officer. Even if other Chiefs have done so, you know you'll be held to a higher standard because you're a woman." Sharon stayed safely leaned against the table.

"Who said anything about secret? I don't do secrets. As it stands right now, you and I work in different departments. While I am technically already your superior officer, the _rules_ that you are so fond of, don't actually forbid our relationship right now, because you don't report directly to me. And if we have a relationship prior to my confirmation as Chief of the whole department, they cannot ask me to end it. But all of that presupposes that I can be honest about our status. It didn't occur to me that you'd want to keep it a secret, if you wanted it at all." Brenda fisted her hands together, skin stretching whitely across her knuckles.

Sharon, for her part, was a little dumbstruck. She uncrossed her arms, and moved a little ways closer to Brenda.

"You would want to…tell people. About us? If there was an us to talk about?" She clarified.

"For heaven's sakes, yes! I learned my lesson about sneaking around with Will Pope. Who, by the way, looks at you like an ice cream sundae. I might have to shoot him, just so you know." Brenda muttered.

"You learn—he what? Are you JEALOUS?" Sharon barked out a short laugh, as Brenda flushed. "You are! Oh my. Well. That changes things, I suppose." She crossed the rest of the way across the room, standing in front of Brenda. "Is there room, at this table, for an overly cautious player, who may have folded too early during the last game?"

"I guess so. But only if we can stop using ridiculous poker analogies." Brenda smirked, before pulling Sharon into a tight embrace. "Now. I do need to go check on things with Taylor." She started to turn away.

"But! The purse! The florals! We have so much work to do, still." Sharon groaned, following Brenda out into the hallway.

"We also have a whole day left." Brenda almost walked into Will Pope, who was storming down the hallway towards the women.

"You! Come here, now!" He barked, pointing at Brenda.

Brenda looked at Sharon and shrugged, following along behind Pope. She could hear the staccato clack of Sharon's pumps trailing the soft click of her own kitten heels.

He pushed open the door of the Media Room, and Brenda saw Taylor and her team sitting there, with hangdog looks on their faces. Sharon stood close behind her, and Brenda took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the sting of oranges, and tried to ignore the immediate flare of desire pooling within. She realized Pope was speaking.

"..so unless you arrested this Dreamweaver idiot for sleeping with his fiancé, which, last I checked, wasn't illegal, you've got nothing to hold him on!" He finished, his face red with fury.

"I gave the order to arrest Marc Torres, not them." Brenda said simply.

Sharon snapped her head around to look at Brenda.

"I was with you! You did not give that order."

"Yeah, and you were not in charge. It was either Taylor or Provenza who made the call to break in without a warrant. So. Why did you think it was worth it to bust in on this couple without enough evidence to hold this guy?" Pope asked.

"You mean besides the fact that he killed his date from the night before last?" Provenza spoke up for the first time.

"Did you want us to let him murder someone while under LAPD. surveillance? Because then we could have held him without any problems." Taylor piped in, seeing a lifeline.

Brenda put her head in her hands in frustration. This was why she didn't hand command of her cases over. Honestly, she loved her team, but without her guidance, they were a diverse parody of the Keystone cops some days.

"But we won't have any problems anyway if you let me just talk to the guy for 10 minutes." She said softly, rubbing her temples.

"I really don't want her involved in this." Sharon said to Pope, quietly.

Just then the door opened, and Frtiz stuck his head in. Everyone looked at him in surprise.

"Uh, excuse me. I just needed Brenda Leigh for one minute?" He looked around the room, noting the close proximity between his ex, and the Captain she'd professed to hate.

Brenda held up her hand in the universal 'one sec' gesture, and followed Fritz out into the hall.

"Hey! What are you doin' in town?" She asked, cheerily.

"Had some things to tie up at the field office here, and I was going to see if you wanted to have lunch, but it looks like you're in the middle of an investigation, so I'll just catch you later." He started to turn away.

Brenda had a flash of brilliance. "Wait! Wait. If you can do me one favor, I'll be free to go to lunch with you, because you'll help me close my case." She smiled winningly.

"What do you need me to do, Brenda Leigh?" He asked warily.

"I just have a short list of questions I need you to ask my suspect in there. That's all. You don't even have to write anything down. Just ask these questions here," she replied, scribbling on the back of a paper she'd yanked from the nearby bulletin board, "and we'll be out of here in 15 minutes, tops." She bustled back into the media room, leaving Fritz standing bewildered in the doorway.

"There! We can arrest Marc Torres in 10 minutes if everyone would just calm down, and let me do my JOB!" She addressed the whole room, but gave pointed glances to Pope, and then to Sharon. "Okay? May I?" She finished sarcastically. Turning back to the door, she muttered, "Jeez. I thought y'all wanted me to be your boss!"

"Gentlemen," Fritz nodded at the men in the room, then, as an afterthought, glanced at Raydor, "Captain." His voice got decidedly more glacial when he spoke to her. He followed Brenda into the interview room.

Sharon leaned against the low slung filing cabinet in the media room, slightly horrified to realize that Brenda and Fritz were sitting very close to one another across from the suspect. She scowled as Brenda grinned at Torres, and introduced herself. Pope came, and stood next to Sharon, close enough that she could smell his aftershave. She could feel his eyes on her, even without looking to confirm, and she knew that his height advantage gave him a clear view down her décolletage. She swallowed back a snort of laughter at the mental picture of Brenda coming in and catching Pope copping a peep, and then shooting him. Then she crossed her arms, pulling her jacket tightly around herself, cutting off the view. That's all she needed, was an OIS with Brenda. Shaking her head, she turned her focus back to the interview, where Fritz was asking Torres a series of questions about his relationship with the victim. Sharon glanced around the room when Brenda began to ask the same series of questions, but then broke into a slow grin as she watched the blonde woman produce folder after folder of evidence showing that Torres had lied.

"Yeah, I lied. But I got a lot of cops in my family, and you don't have enough to hold me. And it's not a crime to lie to the police." The suspect said smugly.

"That's true, Mr. Torres. But it is a crime to lie to the FBI." Brenda replied, gathering up her folders. "So I think now's a good time for us to place you under arrest." She swept out of the room, as Fritz followed behind.

Once in the hall, she turned to him.

"Where did you want to meet for lunch?" she asked.

"Meet? I thought we'd ride over together." Fritz replied, furrowing his brow.

"Oh, you know, I have to prep for my interview with the Mayor tomorrow, for the Chief thing. So I have to come back here after we eat, and I just thought it'd be faster if we took two cars. Where were you thinking of eating?" She fiddled with the bracelet on her arm, and looked up at him.

He stared down at her, and realized that whatever had prompted her to call him a few days ago, was no longer in play. She looked happy. He glanced down at his watch, and then back at Brenda.

"Actually, I'm apparently running a little later than I thought. How bout we try and meet up the next time I'm in town, Brenda? It sounds like you've got a big day tomorrow, anyway."

"That's what everybody keeps telling me. Yeah, we can meet up the next time you come out, just give me a little forewarning next time, and I'll try to clear my schedule." Brenda smiled, and then gave him a tentative hug just as Sharon rounded the corner.

"It was good to see you, Brenda Leigh. You take care of yourself." Fritz said, as he pulled away. He saw the Captain, and realized that the stormy look on her face was directed at him, and not at Brenda. The light bulb clicked, and he smiled a little bit. Walking away from Brenda, he passed the Captain, and paused to whisper to her.

"You take care of our girl, Captain. I'm counting on you."

Sharon turned to look at him, but he was striding down the hall, not looking back. She looked at Brenda, who was watching her with a puzzled look on her face.

"What was that?" Brenda wondered out loud.

"I'm pretty sure that was a blessing, Chief. Now, you have some more prep work to do."


	30. Chapter 30

The two women sat in Brenda's office, at the small table, as far apart as they needed to sit to maintain the idea of professionalism.

"So, basically, you just want to show that you understand that he's in a tough position when it comes to allocating funds for things, and that you'll always advocate for the department, but you won't become an annoyance."

"But, I will be an annoyance, if I think we need something funded. I'll vex him until l get it. It's a southern thing, I'll just keep bringing him muffins until he has a come to Jesus moment."

"Right, but you don't want to give that away at the initial interview. It's better to keep some things mysterious."

"Is that so, Cap'n?" Brenda leaned forward, grinning.

"Chief, focus!" Sharon replied sharply.

Flynn knocked on the door, before peeking in.

"Uh, Chief? The fiancé is in the kitchenette, so, if we're gonna talk to her, seems like now's the time."

"Right. Be right there, Lieutenant."

She looked at Sharon, then peered over her shoulder to see if Flynn had left. Verifying that the room was empty, she took Sharon's hands and pulled her into a standing position, before bringing her into a gentle kiss. It was chaste, and sweet, but tinged with the promise of later.

"I have been wanting to do that since…well good grief, since you ran out of my house the day after you were attacked." Brenda whispered, leaning her forehead against Sharon's.

"If it's any consolation, Chief, I've wanted that too, more than you know." Sharon replied.

"Mmm. Well, I have to go talk to the future Mrs. Torres, and then I'm going home to get some rest. I know just the thing to wear for my interview tomorrow, so don't you worry about that. You should get some rest too, because tomorrow night, I'm either going to want to go celebrate, or I'm going to need to be consoled, but either way, I'm going to need a dinner date. I think I owe you one, at the very least, so, what do you say? Tomorrow night, around 7?" Brenda smiled sweetly.

"I say, it's a date." Sharon slanted her lips over Brenda's, kissing her soundly, relishing in the sensation of Brenda's lithe, warm body against hers.

As the kiss ended, Brenda found herself a little wobbly, and she grinned widely. Walking to the door, she paused with her hand on the knob.

"I'm glad your mouth worked faster than your brain for once. I hope you know you can be honest with me, no matter the circumstance. I'll see you tomorrow, Cap'n. Sweet dreams!"

Sharon watched her go, a conflicting mess of thoughts swirling around in her brain. Though the terrible skirts had grown on her over the last few months, the idea of letting Brenda pick out her own outfit for the interview gave her a little bit of indigestion, if she was being honest with herself. Shaking her head, she gathered up her files, and put them into her Cartier attaché case, and headed back down to FID. On the way, she ran into Will Pope.

"You'll make sure she's on time tomorrow?" He asked without preamble.

"I'll walk her across the street myself, sir." She replied, smiling a smile that made Pope feel slightly unsettled.

"Good. Well, I have to say, I'm glad you two have gotten over your enmity. It's refreshing to not have to referee. I'd venture to say if you two ever actually got to be friends, the LAPD would have to watch out." He chuckled as he spoke.

"Mmm-hmmm. Well, good to see you, Chief Pope. I must be on my way." Sharon replied, moving down the hallway, keeping her features schooled into a mask of neutrality.

"Oh, ah, Sharon?" Will called after her.

"Yes, sir?" Sharon answered, turning back to face him.

"If you ever wanted to get a coffee, and, you know, talk shop, let me know." He flushed all the way to the top of his very bald head, then gave a mock salute, and turned to wander off.

Sharon stood there for a moment, and then couldn't hold in the giggles. She shoved open the door to the stairway, and leaned against the wall, peals of laughter bouncing off of the cement stairs. Honestly. If he was going to make a habit of that, she might just let the Chief shoot him, and put them all out of their misery.

The next morning, Brenda lay sprawled across her bed, in her slip, looking over the videos from the Judy Lynch case. She knew that what she was looking for was hidden in plain sight, but she just couldn't see it. She adjusted her glasses on her nose, and then leaned forward, hitting rewind on the unpublished vlog file Tao had located. If Judy had been filming this, then who'd keyed Torres' car? She dialed Tao, and impatiently interrupted his bumbling well wishes, to outline her plan. Satisfied that things were in motion, she rolled off the bed, drained her coffee, left the mug on the nightstand, and stood in front of her closet. She had it narrowed down to two choices. A slimming pinstriped suit, that, if she thought about it, rather looked like something the Captain would wear, or a vibrant red dress with wide white trim. Recalling her conversation with the Captain yesterday, and the heat that had passed between them when she'd suggested that Brenda play up her 'feminine virtues', the choice was easy.

Donning the dress, and a higher-than-usual pair of silver heels, she chuckled as she tossed a tiny printed purse into her standard oversized tote. She ignored the fact that she was more excited about seeing Sharon's reaction to her outfit, than she was about interviewing with the Mayor. She stopped in the en suite, and applied some shockingly red lipstick, and swept her hair up into a tousled updo to complete the transformation. Stepping back, she appraised herself in the full length mirror, and nodded happily. Sharon wouldn't know what hit her. Her bra lifted and separated in all the right places, and the lines of the dress skimmed forgivingly over her midsection, sweeping over her hips and thighs, before ending just above her knees. The shoes made her calf muscles seem well defined, and as she turned, she realized that for the first time since puberty, she could conceivably be considered in possession of a nice butt. Grinning, she snapped off the fluorescent light, and snagged her tote on the way downstairs.

Meanwhile, Sharon cursed the traffic on the Highway, as she'd hoped to get to work early enough to take an emergency shopping break if Brenda had on anything resembling a flower petal. As it stood, she'd barely be on time, thanks to an avocado truck that had literally lost its lunch. She growled in frustration, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, before leaning down to click off the local traffic and weather station, and put on her MP3 player. Leaning back against the headrest, she grinned a little bit at the memory of having Brenda in the passenger seat. Particularly when she thought about what had transpired in the stairwell afterwards. Really, now that she was using her higher intellect, and not just her lizard brain, Brenda had been indicating her seriousness from almost the very beginning. She felt a little bit awful when she considered how much time she'd wasted, because she hadn't been paying attention to the details. She was nothing, if not attentive to detail, but she'd been so caught up in the novelty, and so worried that it was all going to come crashing down around her ears, that she'd missed the subtle clues, the small hints. Shaking her head, she comforted herself with the fact that, now, at least, they could move forward. Assuming she'd been telling the truth about her outfit for the interview. Otherwise, Sharon was going to have to kill her, and that wasn't really a strong foundation to build a relationship upon, after all. The car in front of her crept forward, and Sharon refocused her attention on the road, hopeful that the path would be clear hence forth.

Brenda leaned over Buzz's shoulder, staring at the footage with her team. She'd hoped to see Sharon before she got started, but the woman was uncharacteristically late. Brenda tried not to read too much into that, but there was a tiny seed of fear in her belly that the progress they'd made yesterday had vanished in the night. Vanished… Brenda asked Buzz to key back to Judy's vlog once more. The pillow. Where was the pillow that she'd been smothered with? She leaned closer, resting her palms on the table, squinting at the grainy footage. It wasn't there. Where was it? She startled when the door opened, and the Captain walked, stopping short just inside the doorway.

"Chief, you look," she forced herself to drag her eyes away from the miles of bare leg, the tapered waist, the…were they bigger? "Great. You look great." She finished lamely, finally meeting Brenda's eyes.

"Well thank you, Cap'n." Brenda smiled, and put her glasses back on, turning back to the screen.

"I made a, ah, reservation for us, downstairs?"

"Oh, I can't. I don't have time right now, for breakfast, actually." Brenda was back to leaning over Buzz's shoulder, peering at the screen.

Sharon knew that look. She crossed the room, and folded her arms over her chest.

"Why?" She drew the question out, trying to convey the subtle warning about Brenda's lunch date without overtly calling her out. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to find the exact time Marc Torres' car was keyed." Brenda replied.

Sharon stood behind Brenda, trying to focus on the screen, but the decided absence of panty lines beneath the dress was driving her to distraction. She moved a little closer, so that her thigh pressed against the back of Brenda's leg. Brenda managed to suppress the shiver of pleasure that strummed through her body at the contact, and she focused all of her attention on the Camaro on the screen.

"There. We don't see who did it, though." Brenda sighed.

"What does that mean?" Sharon asked, leaning closer to the screen, resting her hand on the small of Brenda's back.

"It means, I've been spending a lot of time this morning looking for things I can't see," Brenda replied, straightening up. "That scratch happened at 9:45 PM while Judy was on her date." She glanced over at Lt. Tao. "I'mma need you to bring Marc Torres up from holding, I may need him. And um, your bag of tricks, too."

Sharon felt her stomach sink. This sounded complicated, and though there wasn't any need for an emergency shopping trip, because good lord, that dress was more than adequate, the idea of Brenda actively working a case just before her meeting made her very nervous.

"Chief, surely this can wait?" She asked, hopefully.

"I won't miss my appointment!" Brenda exclaimed, fixing her glasses on her face. "I promise. I promise, I promise, I promise." She turned, and gave Sharon a winning smile.

"All right, Chief. I'll see you later, then." Sharon smiled tightly, and strode out of the room, hoping beyond all hope that Brenda wouldn't tank this chance.


	31. Chapter 31

Riding back from Judy Lynch's apartment with Gabriel was a blessedly silent affair. Brenda drummed her fingers on the arm rest, and tried not to think about the upcoming meeting with the Mayor, or the upcoming dinner plans she'd made. Between those two things, she was feeling as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and Gabriel could tell that she was tightly wound.

"So, I know you don't want to talk about it. I just wanted to say, that I'm happy you worked things out. And I also wanted to say, that the current Chief of Police? When he was appointed, he was dating a beat cop. They're married now. So, don't get too twisted up in your own head, okay, Chief?" Gabriel spared a glance over at Brenda, before refocusing his attention on the road.

"How is it, that it took you so long to decide to make Detective, Detective?" Brenda replied, with a smirk.

"I just needed the right motivation. That situation with Irene, well, that's an example of how mixing work and relationships can go wrong. But there are people who can do it right. And I think that, if I'm not mistaken, you and Captain Raydor both value your jobs, so you'll figure out how to make it work. I wish you both the best. Selfishly, I hope you mellow her out, but honestly, I just don't see that happening." He chuckled at that last bit.

"Mmm. Yes, well, honestly, neither do I." Brenda gave a short laugh of her own. "Thank you, Detective. I know that we don't often talk, but I want you to know that I do consider you a friend, and I value your opinion, and I appreciate you taking the time to be concerned about my well-being. It means a lot, David. I hope you know that." Brenda felt strangely emotional.

"You got it, Chief. It's mutual. Good luck too, with your interview with the Mayor today. I hope that goes exactly the way you want it to." He smiled as he pulled into the parking garage, dropping the Chief by the elevators, before heading off to find a spot.

Brenda stood bent over in front of the full length mirror in her office, fixing the heel on her shoe, before putting the final touches on her outfit. There was a soft knock, and then Sharon stepped into the room, pushing the door closed behind her.

"I was tempted to bring a uniformed escort to take you across the street." Sharon said, smiling at Brenda's reflection in the mirror.

"Ohh, that's not necessary." Brenda sighed, smoothing the front of her dress, and making sure her bobby pins were holding her fly away hairs in place.

"Can I ask you a question?" Sharon asked, softly.

"Sure, why not." Brenda replied, thinking that everyone had had questions today, and she hadn't even made it to the dang interview yet.

"Do you really not want to be Chief of Police?"

"No. I do not."

"But, as a woman, don't you at least feel an obligation to give it a try?" Sharon leaned against the small filing cabinet, and held Brenda's gaze.

"As a woman, I feel I've earned the right to options, and one of my options should be to say no." Brenda put her hands on her hips.

"You don't think that I wanted to spend my career in internal affairs, doing a job that leaves me disliked and mistrusted by my fellow officers every day of my life? No, I chose I.A., because it was the quickest way to achieve rank. And I also thought it'd be good for the department to see a woman in a captain's uniform. And, of course, you got your job the old-fashioned way." Sharon cringed as she said it, but she felt her point needed to be made.

Brenda took a step back, and narrowed her eyes at Sharon. "How's that?" She asked.

"By sleeping with the boss." Sharon answered simply. She watched Brenda's face shutter closed.

"That's not an insult, Chief, that's a time honored way of moving forward. But those roads are not open to everyone, and you have a chance to kind of maybe change that a little bit." Sharon was quick to drive home the important part of her speech.

"So, you're saying I should take the job whether I want it or not." Brenda clarified.

"Yes. Please make the oh-so-terrible sacrifice of accepting a promotion that offers you more money, prestige, and power than any other job in the city. And if it will help you with the suffering, you'll not only be a positive role model for little girls all over this country, but I personally .. I will feel very proud to have a chief that I can truly admire." Sharon's eyes fairly glowed with the truth of her emotion.

"Well. Thank you, Cap'n." Brenda replied, touched, but still stung at the implication that she'd slept her way to the top.

Sharon stepped forward, and placed a gentle kiss at the corner of Brenda's mouth.

"It's my pleasure, Chief. I'll pick you up at 7?"

"Yes. What should I wear?" Brenda wondered, reaching for her oversized tote, keeping her eyes on Sharon's face.

Sharon leveled a hostile glare at the giant purse, cursing herself for not realizing that Brenda hadn't brought along a proper clutch. Just then, Brenda reached into the bag, and pulled out a small, printed purse, and smiled cheekily.

"Wear what you have on right now. I feel like I haven't had the chance to properly vet your outfit's suitability." Sharon let her gaze rake over Brenda's body, before meeting her eyes again.

"All righty then. Wish me luck." Brenda replied, heading for the door.

"I will, but you won't need it. You're remarkable all on your own." Sharon replied. She watched as Brenda left the office, waiting for the door to click shut, and then did a little victory fist pump. That had gone infinitely better than she'd been expecting, and they were still on for dinner. And Brenda was going to keep that dress on. Sharon thought that this day might make it up on the top 20 list of best days ever, as she left Brenda's office, and headed back down to her own department.


	32. Chapter 32

After her interview, Brenda went back to her office, and let her team know that she'd be taking the rest of the day off, since they'd closed the Lynch case, and since she couldn't stand rehashing that interview a million times, and since her shoes were killing her, and they could call her if they caught a case, but that it had better be a damn good emergency if they did. As she swept out of the office, Detective Gabriel caught her eye, and gave her a wide grin. She nodded in his direction, and headed to the elevator.

Once she got home, she stripped out of the dress, and tossed it in one of those Dry Clean in the Dryer kits. The Mayor had puffed his way through 2 cigars during their 'speed date', and Brenda was sure the stink clung to every fiber she had on, plus her hair. Once the dress was safely ensconced in the dryer, she jogged up the steps to the bathroom, and turned on the stereo, snickering when the lyrics were about kissing some girl in Chapstick. Setting the shower to its hottest setting, she climbed in, and let the water sluice over her. She was determined to take things slow tonight, with Sharon. They'd go out, have a nice meal, maybe a glass of wine. Sharon would bring her home, maybe a good night kiss or two, but that was it. Brenda didn't think she could survive it if Sharon got cold feet again, especially not if they were intimate again. She felt her nipples pucker under the steaming water as she remembered the sensation of Sharon's mouth on her breast, almost as hot as the water cascading over it now. She thought briefly about taking the edge off, to give her hormones a fighting chance later on, but as she slid her soapy hands over her body, she decided that waiting would make it better, in the end.

Sharon sat at her desk, scowling at her watch. It was only 6:15. She'd already changed into a dark, pleated skirt, with a plum V-necked shell, and dark shoes. Her hair was flawless, her makeup was done. And it would only take 10 minutes to get to Brenda's house. Drumming her fingers on the desk, she decided to risk being unfashionably early, because the waiting was going to drive her insane. She stopped by the kitchenette to rescue the flowers she'd bought on her lunch break, and then took the stairs to the parking garage, and slid in behind the wheel, and keyed the ignition and pulled out. Despite driving below the speed limit, and earning the ire of more than a few fellow travellers on that long road, it was only 6:40 when she arrived. She reached into the passenger seat, and grabbed the flowers, and headed up the walkway, going over the capitals of states in her mind, to block out the memory of the things they'd done on that awful blue couch. She rang the doorbell, and waited.

Inside, Brenda heard the doorbell, and glanced at the clock, groaning. It was probably the UPS man with a delivery for the neighbor. She pulled on her shortie robe, and ran down the stairs to shoo them away. Yanking the door open, she blinked twice at the vision on her porch. Sharon Raydor, shrouded in the fading orange of the setting sun, was absolutely radiant. Brenda had to remind herself to breathe. She stepped back, and gestured an equally breathless Captain to come in.

"You're early! I thought you were the UPS man, or something." Brenda laughed, a little weakly, trying to calm the hammering of her heart.

Sharon cocked her head, trying to determine if Brenda actually made it a habit of answering for the post in a robe that left precious little to the imagination. Not that Sharon's imagination wasn't making up for what was covered, for all that.

"You might want to put these in some water," she finally said, holding the flowers out, "they're chocolate scented daisies."

Brenda reached out to take the flowers, and as their hands brushed, she had to stifle the small sigh that threatened to escape. Sharon's skin was so smooth, belying her age. She turned, and went into the kitchen in search of a vase. As she walked, she held the flowers to her nose, expecting the chocolate scented part to be more of an idea, than a reality, but to her surprise, the flowers smelled exactly like rich, dark cocoa. She stopped, and looked back at Sharon, amazed at the way she'd taken something as trite as flowers on a date, and made it exactly perfect for Brenda. Sharon was drinking in the vision of Brenda walking away in that sinfully short robe, and didn't immediately realize that Brenda had stopped, and was now aware of the lascivious scrutiny Sharon was administering. When it occurred to her that those ridiculously long legs were no longer moving, she slowly raised her eyes, and met Brenda's with a look of total hunger. Brenda felt her throat go dry at the sight, and took a few steps back, hoping to regain her composure, and resume the task of finding a vase for the flowers.

Coming back into the entry hall, she placed the vase on the table, and turned to face Sharon.

"They're absolutely perfect. Thank you so much." Her accent was stronger, thanks to her hyperawareness of her nearly naked state, and Sharon's proximity. Her body tingled in anticipation, and she was sure that her pulse was going to hit triple time, if she couldn't pull it together.

"You're welcome, Brenda. It seems I have some things to make up for, so consider those a more delicious alternative to an olive branch." Sharon replied, carefully keeping her gaze on Brenda's face.

Brenda nodded, and then gestured towards the stairs. "I'm just gonna go get dressed, and then we can go, m'kay?"

"Right. I'll, uh, I'll just wait down here." Sharon agreed.

"Oh, for heaven's sakes! Where are my manners? You can have a seat. Would you like anything while you wait? Sweet tea, or anything?" Brenda couldn't believe she'd almost left the woman standing in her foyer, without a lick of hospitality. Some days, she hated living in LA.

"I'll sit, thank you, but I don't need a drink." Sharon chuckled, thinking that actually, she very much did need a drink, but that sweet tea wasn't nearly strong enough to stem the tide of need that was flooding every shore in her mind.

"All right then. I'll be right back." Brenda scampered up the steps, equal parts mortified and hopeful at the possibility that Sharon was watching her ascent. She closed the bedroom door behind her, and leaned against it, closing her eyes. She took a few deep, cleansing breaths, hoping to ease the ache that had flared up when she'd met Sharon's gaze, and saw the naked desire in those fathomless green eyes. If that woman kept looking at her like _that_, how on earth was she supposed to remember that she was playing hard to get, to an extent? Shaking her head, she shrugged off the robe, and pulled on a very lacy bra, and tugged the dress over her head. She pondered adding a thong, but she hated to ruin the line of the dress, so she sent up another apology to the good upbringing she was ignoring, and pulled on a pair of red sling backs. She bent over, and shook her hair vigorously, tousling the waves, then flipped it quickly back up, letting it flow wildly over her shoulders. She added a dab of lip gloss, thinking that the red from earlier would surely smear if they happened to share that goodnight kiss, and snatched up the little printed purse she'd taken on her interview with the Mayor.

Sharon heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and stood up, turning to greet the blonde woman. For the third time that day, though, the site of Brenda's lean frame knocked the air from her lungs, and left her fumbling for words. She met Brenda at the bottom of the staircase, having composed herself somewhat, and extended her hand, feeling that familiarly pleasant jolt when their palms linked, and their fingers twined together.

"I feel as though I didn't do this outfit justice earlier, when I told you looked great. You look astonishing. You absolutely take my breath away." Sharon said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on Brenda's cheek.

"Thank you." Brenda blushed, and moved towards the door. "So, tell me about this little Italian place. Is it the best kept secret in L.A?"

Sharon followed, smiling at the small talk. "Not exactly. Occasionally famous people eat there. I mean, it is L.A after all, and famous people have eaten almost everywhere, so it has a little notoriety, but overall, it's a nice little spot, without too much of a wait. Of course, we have reservations, so that's not an issue."

"Of course we have reservations." Brenda teased, locking the door behind them. "You're setting a dangerous expectation here, Sharon. I'm more of a takeout kind of girl."

Sharon snorted at that, resisting the urge to make a terrible joke about cheap and easy, and just opened the passenger door for Brenda, and taking great pleasure in watching her settle those long legs into the car, before shutting the door, and walking around to slide in behind the wheel. The drive to the restaurant was filled with a general conversation, Sharon griped about an OIS involving Vice, where the Officer involved hadn't actually shot anyone, but a meth addict had managed to commandeer the officer's gun during a struggle, and then accidentally shot himself in the forearm, and Brenda mentioned that she was pondering putting her entire team, sans Gabriel, on short leashes following the mix up with arresting Torres while he was being intimate with his fiancé.

Sharon parked in front of a cozy little building, with dark siding, and brightly lit sconces decorating the façade. She turned off the car, and gracefully stepped out, walking around to open the door for Brenda.

"You know, for someone who was razzing me earlier today about opportunities for women, and what not, you are very chivalrous. Isn't that at odds? I mean, I could of course, open my own door. And you brought me flowers. And you picked me up. Are you uh, I mean, is this how you usually court women? Or are you acting like a southern gentleman because you think that's what I'd like?" Brenda asked, as they walked to the door of the restaurant.

Sharon smirked at the line of questioning. "Are you asking if I'm going to be the man in the relationship, Brenda Leigh?"

"No! I mean, I thought that it wasn't like that. That there wasn't a 'male' and a 'female' role, in relationships like this? I saw a special on 20-20, and they said that was old fashioned, from before Stonewall." Brenda was extremely pleased with herself for knowing that.

"Well," Sharon chuckled, "it's true that many people don't subscribe to traditional stereotypes anymore. There are as many flavors of lesbian as there are straight women, which is to say none of us do it the same. It's a matter of individual taste. For my part, I am better at being an active partner. I am a woo-er, as it were. Because our society tends to associate that sort of thing with men, it's not uncommon for me to be seen in the masculine role. I assure you, however, that I am 100% woman."

Brenda swept her gaze over Sharon's body, taking in the generous cleavage, the curve of her hips beneath that skirt, and felt a flush start to rise to her cheeks. "Well, there's no doubt about that, is there?"

The maître d showed them to a secluded corner table, and handed them a wine list, after listing the specials. Brenda looked over the list, and found that they had several imported Italian Merlot's, and she grinned happily. They ordered a bottle of Livon's "Tiare Mate", and Brenda couldn't help the little moan of appreciation when the red liquid spilled into her mouth. Sharon watched as her elegant throat worked, loving the pleasure she took in the simple act of drinking wine.

"Dear lord that's good." Brenda said, setting her glass back on the table.

"So, I know that you prefer a big glass of merlot, but do you have particular favorites?" Sharon asked, as she glanced over the menu.

"Well, there's a Slovenian variety that is my absolute favorite. It's not an export, so I can only get it over there, and I haven't been for ages. Aside from that, I enjoy the Italian Merlots, and then the domestic Californians."

The conversation continued thus, as they dined on crisp salads, richly sauced pasta dishes, and of course, more wine. Brenda had just finished relaying a story about her niece, Charlie, when the waiter reappeared, and asked about dessert.

"Oh! I hadn't even looked at the dessert menu yet." Brenda fussed.

"It's fine, Brenda. We'll share one _zuccotto_, please," Sharon said to the waiter, then turned to Brenda, adding, "I promise you'll love it. Trust me?"

Brenda nodded, and Sharon relaxed. In the candlelight, Brenda's hair seemed to glow an almost fiery blonde, and though the woman had kept up a steady stream of conversation, Sharon wouldn't have been able to recall much of it, distracted as she was by the movement of those sensual lips. Each time she leaned forward, the neckline of her dress shifted, and Sharon tried not to notice the black lace and pale skin, but it was a losing battle. Her thighs ached from pressing them together, and the evening wasn't close to over. She closed her eyes briefly, snapping them open when she felt Brenda's hand close over hers.

"You okay?" Brenda asked.

"Fine. I was just thinking." Sharon answered evasively.

"Oh? What about?" Brenda let her fingers trace patterns on the back of Sharon's hand, reveling in the softness of her skin.

"This and that."

"Tell me?" Brenda looked up at Sharon through her lashes, and Sharon thought she might never be able to refuse that look.

"I was thinking how beautiful you are in the candlelight. It brings these fiery highlights to your hair, and you seem almost aglow."

"Sharon.." Brenda whispered, stunned by the dark haired woman's words.

The waiter reappeared then, placing a funny little ice cream mold on their table, along with two spoons. Sharon picked one up, handing it to Brenda, then picked up her own as well. She sliced into the _zuccotto_ with the side of the spoon, and pulled a small morsel free. She leaned across the table, and held the spoon to Brenda's lips.

"Taste." She said, her voice low and honeyed.

Brenda parted her lips, accepting the spoon, and the rich, creamy, cakey mixture. The chocolate was dark, and decadent, but there was cake, too, which was light, and airy. The whole thing had been chilled, and Brenda closed her eyes as each flavor danced over her tongue.

"So?" Sharon asked, once Brenda stopped chewing.

"Oh my god. That's almost illegal, it's so good!" Brenda replied, using her own spoon to scoop another bite free. This time, she held the spoon to Sharon's lips, and watched as the older woman captured the bowl of the spoon delicately between her lips. The pink tip of her tongue darted out to catch a crumb, and Brenda felt her center go liquid at the sight.

They continued to share the dessert in this way, until Brenda was a tightly wound coil of arousal. Her steely resolve from earlier was already shattering, and all she wanted to do was slide under the table, and see if the taste of Sharon Raydor was sweeter than any decadent Italian dessert. Sharon gestured for the check, and when Brenda reached for her purse, Sharon waved her away.

"I invited you out. This is my treat." She explained, closing a black credit card into the billfold the waiter had discreetly set on the table. "When you ask me out, you can treat."

"It seems to me that technically, I did ask you out. Since we never got to go out when you asked before." Brenda teased, smiling at the narrowed eyes the Captain turned her way.

"Never the less, as I keep telling you, _Chief Johnson_, and as you keep forgetting, I must go first." Sharon's voice dropped a register, sending heat streaking through Brenda's belly as she recalled the last time Sharon had mentioned that. Those elegantly slender fingers had been…oh lord. She pressed her thighs together, and tried to name the 7 deadly sins in alphabetical order. She made it to lust, and then she thought of the look Sharon had leveled in her direction earlier. And then she thought that just maybe, it'd be okay not to wait.


	33. Chapter 33

Walking back out to the car, Brenda couldn't take her eyes off of the swaying hips of the Captain as she walked ahead. The skirt clung to her legs in all the right places, ending just below mid-thigh, and the stiletto heels made Sharon's calves stand out in remarkable definition. Brenda blushed all the way down to her torso as she pondered running her tongue along the curve of that muscle. Sharon paused to open the passenger door, and was surprised to feel two arms sliding around her waist. She turned, and Brenda caught her lips in a fevered kiss, that tasted of wine and chocolate. Sharon put her hands low on Brenda's hips, pulling her closer into an embrace. Brenda skimmed her tongue along Sharon's lower lip, and sighed into the kiss when Sharon's tongue stroked along hers. Brenda thought that maybe she could stand here forever, kissing this woman, being kissed by her, if it weren't for the fact that she wanted so much more. She pressed her body firmly against Sharon's, feeling the soft warmth of her everywhere. Sharon moved one hand to tangle in Brenda's hair, and slid the other hand down the outside of Brenda's thigh, delighting in the slip of soft material beneath her fingers, before dragging her nails back up. Sharon knew that if they stayed here, leaned against the car, they'd eventually be breaking the public decency law, so she broke the kiss, and whispered in Brenda's ear.

"Come home with me?"

"Yes."


	34. Chapter 34

The drive home had been filled with softly teasing touches, Sharon tracing patterns up the skin of Brenda's thigh, getting impossibly close, before dropping back down to caress her knee, or catch her hand, and smooth her thumb over the bumps of Brenda's knuckles, before bringing it to her lips. Brenda, for her part, was slightly more cautious, mindful of the fact that Sharon was driving. At each traffic light, she made the most of her brief moments, tracing her tongue around the shell of Sharon's ear, sucking the tender lobe between her teeth, reveling in the shivers it sent through the body of the dark haired woman. At stop signs, she traced her fingers over Sharon's lips, feeling the heated damp of her breath, and then the shocking clench of her own sex when Sharon sucked her finger into that dark mouth, humming with pleasure.

They walked up the steps to Sharon's porch, and Brenda thanked every deity she could name that she'd fed Joel a little extra, just in case. Once Sharon had the door open, and stepped inside, the last fiber of Brenda's restraint snapped, and she followed Sharon in, before crushing her against the door, taking her mouth, demanding entrance in a searing kiss. Sharon groaned, and slid her hands around, settling them firmly on twin globes, pulling Brenda closer, as she licked into the kiss, moving her tongue sensuously, but letting the blonde maintain dominance, for now.

Brenda moved her lips to Sharon's jaw, desperate to taste every inch of her, nibbling and sucking the skin of her throat, before letting her lips dance across the gentle bumps of her collarbone. Sharon fisted her hand in Brenda's hair, dragging her back up into another kiss, this time taking control, as she smoothly stroked her tongue against Brenda's, expertly drawing forth the tiny moans of pleasure that sent lightning bolts of desire to her own core. She was determined to make this last, having wasted far too much time running from her feelings, running from Brenda's feelings. She ran her hands gently over Brenda's arms, catching her by the wrists, and bringing her arms up over her head. Still engaged in the kiss, Sharon held both of Brenda's hands in one of hers, then trailed her fingers lightly down, cupping her breast, sighing at the sensation of the nipple hardening beneath her palm.

"I think that we should go upstairs, now." Sharon husked, her lips against Brenda's jaw.

"Okay." Brenda replied breathlessly.

Sharon released Brenda's wrists, but caught her hand, twining their fingers together, as she moved towards the stairs. Brenda walked ahead of Sharon, stopping to turn on the first step, taking the chance to have the height advantage for the first time, and drew Sharon into another kiss, wondering how she had ever existed without kissing her before. Had there been any kisses before Sharon Raydor's expert lips? Brenda was pretty sure there hadn't, that everything leading up to this moment had been the romantic equivalent of children playing house. Her thighs were already sticky with need, and they'd hardly begun. She shivered, thinking forward to what lay ahead, and broke the kiss, almost dragging Sharon up the rest of the stairs.

"First door, here." Sharon said breathlessly, stepping over the threshold, and turning to meet Brenda's heated gaze.

"I want you so much," Brenda whispered, moving close to Sharon, but not touching her, "but you could break me, if you run again."

"I'm here. I promise." Sharon murmured, pulling Brenda into her arms, and kissing her gently, putting the truth of her words into the movement of her lips.

Brenda sighed happily into the kiss, and slid her arms around Sharon's waist, pulling her shirt free from her skirt, and slipping her hands up to caress the hot skin of Sharon's back, then slid the garment up, and off. Sharon shuddered at the sudden breeze, and ran her hands down the sides of Brenda's thighs, before fisting the red material in her hands, dragging it slowly up, to bunch around her waist. She let one finger trail gently over the damp blonde curls, before she pulled the dress over Brenda's head, and flung it unceremoniously to the side.

"So beautiful." Sharon whispered, as she ran her hands over the contours of Brenda's body.

Brenda was acutely aware of the rasp of Sharon's wool skirt against her naked and needy thighs, and while the sensation was doing wonderful things to her body, she felt rather underdressed, in comparison. Smoothing her hands over the curves of Sharon's backside, she found the zipper closure, and pulled it down, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband, and pushed the material to the floor. Sharon wore matching plum lace lingerie, and Brenda had to stifle a grin that even her underwear was high couture, probably La Perla, if she had to guess. Brenda ran her hands over the lacey panties, then pushed those to the floor as well. Sharon slid the straps of Brenda's bra off her shoulders, dropping kisses along the tender skin, before she reached around, and expertly unfastened the clasp, drawing the fabric down, tossing it in the same general direction as the dress. She moaned as the heat of Brenda's fully naked body pressed into hers. Brenda moved her hands to tangle in Sharon's hair, pulling her up for another kiss, then let them drift down, over her shoulders, until she found the clasp of Sharon's bra. She tugged, and fumbled for a minute, before Sharon reached up and loosed the clasp for her. Brenda blushed a little, but slid the lacy cups down, removing the garment and dropping it. Sharon's nipples were already hard, and Brenda rolled them between the fingers of both hands, gasping as Sharon ground her hips against Brenda's center.

"Bed?" Brenda whispered, letting the backs of her hands bump down Sharon's ribs, before nuzzling her throat, just the hint of teeth making Sharon delirious with want.

Sharon put her hands on Brenda's hips, and propelled her to the bed, pushing her down when Brenda's knees hit the mattress and buckled. She climbed on top, and ran her tongue from Brenda's hipbone, up to the turgid nipple, capturing it in her mouth, and sucked hard, pressing the flat of her tongue against it, bracing herself as Brenda bucked hard into her abdomen. She left a trail of tingling skin as she kissed across to the other breast, swirling her tongue around the puckered flesh, letting her teeth scrape gently. Brenda moved restlessly beneath her, overcome with the sensation of Sharon's weight on her, the heat of her mouth, the scent of oranges mixing with another, heady perfume.

"Please" She begged, not really knowing what she was begging for, just trusting that Sharon would be able to provide it.

Sharon pressed a gentle kiss to Brenda's lips, then feathered soft kisses down her throat, and over the swell of her breasts, feeling her own center go completely liquid at the sound of Brenda's breathless pleas. She spread kisses over the quivering skin of Brenda's stomach, nipping at the flesh stretched taut over her hip bone, before letting her lips graze the patch of curls at the apex of Brenda's thighs. The scent of her arousal was enough to make Sharon's mouth actually water, and she left a few cursory kisses along Brenda's thighs, before she pushed her legs apart, and slipped her tongue into silken wet folds, letting the flavor overwhelm her. Brenda let out a low moan at the sensation, and Sharon had to steady her hips by pressing down with her hands, as she licked slowly along, dipping her tongue inside, before swirling it up to circle around the sensitive nub at the top, sucking it, and flicking her tongue over the tip. Brenda gasped at the onslaught of stimulation, and cried out when she felt Sharon slip one, then two fingers inside, twisting as she thrust, matching the motion of her hand with the motion of her tongue.

"Jesus. Oh god." Brenda chanted, feeling the tightening in her belly, as Sharon pressed her fingers impossibly deeper.

Sharon scissored her fingers, then pressed a third one inside, and lifted her head long enough to say;

"Come for me, Brenda. I want to taste all of you, now." And then she pressed her tongue against the hard little bead, sucking it into her mouth, as she crooked her fingers inside, and then she felt the delicious contractions of Brenda's body around her hands, and heard the incomprehensible stream of expletives in that honeyed Georgian cadence, and felt the resultant warmth dripping down her hand. She kissed Brenda clean, then slid her body up to hold the blonde woman close, kissing her tenderly.

Brenda felt brazen as she tasted herself in Sharon's kiss. She rolled so that she was on top, and she stared into Sharon's eyes.

"I'm not sure it's legal, to be as good at that as you are, Cap'n. I'm pretty sure that tongue might fall under the concealed weapon classification." She said breathlessly, feeling the pleasant aftershocks of that powerful orgasm.

Sharon laughed, a deep, rich sound. Brenda was entranced. She'd never really heard Sharon laugh before, but just then, she decided that it was something she was going to hear as often as possible, second only to the dark haired woman saying her name in ecstasy. Speaking of which. Brenda captured Sharon's lips, sucking the lower one between her teeth, and tracing it with her tongue. Sharon shifted, so that Brenda was between her legs, and Brenda could feel the hot evidence of Sharon's desire slick on her stomach. She kissed her bruisingly, as her hands roamed over Sharon's body, feeling the swell of her breasts, the hard little peaks of her nipples. Brenda dropped her head, and sucked hard at the skin at the base of Sharon's throat. She knew it would leave a mark, but she couldn't stop, the salty taste of the woman was more than she could stand. She slid further down, so she could flick her tongue over nipples, leaving wet kisses between heaving breasts, as she reverently learned the landscape of the body that had occupied her thoughts for months. She kissed each bump of rib, and teasingly dipped her tongue into Sharon's navel, before settling herself between her thighs. She slipped a finger into Sharon's folds, not exactly sure of the topography.

Misunderstanding the hesitation in Brenda's posture, Sharon half sat up. "You don't have to do that, Brenda."

"Oh my lord, yes I do. I really, REALLY do. I want to taste you so bad it hurts. I just want it to be good for you, too." Brenda rasped, lowering her head.

She dipped her tongue into the sticky sweet depths, and groaned in amazement. The musky scent of Sharon's arousal had been alluring, but the flavor of the woman…Brenda felt a corresponding warmth in her center, as she dragged her tongue around the unfamiliar geography. She kept an eye on Sharon, noting where each gasp and moan originated from. She found the little bump, and flicked her tongue across it experimentally, grinning when Sharon's hips thrust up off of the bed. She slid her tongue flat across it, then flicked it again, and then swirled it in circles, as Sharon set up a steady chant of 'please' and 'don't stop' and 'right there'. She sucked it into her mouth, and hummed, causing a breathless 'fuck' to be added to Sharon's litany. She slipped a finger inside, holding it still, as she moved her mouth over Sharon's sex, feeling each quiver and clenching, then added a second, still not thrusting, as she curled her tongue, moving it in a serpentine pattern.

"More…" Sharon moaned, her hips moving erratically beneath Brenda's ministrations.

Brenda slipped a third finger in, and begin to move them, twisting without thrusting, as she sucked tender flesh, gently nibbling, then soothing with her tongue. She could feel Sharon's body bearing down on her hand, the muscles sinuously bunching and relaxing, and Brenda knew that she was close. She moved her tongue more quickly, and began to piston her arm, pulling almost all the way out, then sliding deeper still. The vision of Sharon Raydor splayed across the bed, eyes closed, mouth open in a breathless moan, as Brenda licked and sucked, as she teased with her fingers, caused Brenda to press her aching sex against the matress. She ground her hips into it, matching her thrusting rhythm to the thrusting of her arm, and as she felt Sharon's body grip her fingers impossibly tight, she groaned, her mouth covering Sharon as she came violently, sending Brenda over the edge as well. She laid her head on Sharon's thigh, and glanced up at her.

"I don't think I can move, kay?"

"Of course you can, because I intend to kiss you. Come here."

Brenda scrambled up the bed to lay next to Sharon, who proceeded to kiss Brenda so hotly that Brenda thought she might be on the verge of a third.

"I can't believe I didn't come after you sooner! What was I thinking?" Brenda gasped, when the kiss ended.

"I have no idea. But I'm not accustomed to being pursued, so it probably wouldn't have worked out this well."

"Control freak." Brenda teased affectionately.

"Pageant Queen." Sharon replied, tucking Brenda's head under her chin.

"Hey! That was a long time ago." Brenda protested.

"It's okay. As long as you still have the sash. Because I have this recurring dream, and it's you, in nothing but your Miss Atlanta sash. The rest, I'll have to show you." Sharon idly toyed with Brenda's hair as she spoke.

"Well, fortunately for you, it's packed away somewhere at my parent's house."

"Mmm. Good. I also have plans for that red dress."

"Oh?" Brenda asked.

"You have no idea. When you were leaning over the table in the media room, and I was behind you, all I could think about was sliding the dress up, and…well, as I said. I have plans." Sharon chuckled as Brenda flushed.

"Great minds, then." Brenda retorted, then yawned hugely.

"Sleepy already?"

"Well, wine and a workout. I'm not as young as I used to be. But I just need a power nap, and then…I too, have plans."

"You're younger than I am."

"Hush. I'm napping." Brenda snuggled closer to Sharon, and Sharon pulled the covers up, settling into the embrace, and closing her own eyes. They could talk later.


	35. Chapter 35

Sharon awoke to the pleasant sensation of a hand resting lightly on her breast. Brenda's hand had gravitated upwards in sleep, and Sharon could feel her nipple tightening under the warmth of the Chief's palm. She thought back to the words Brenda had whispered before they'd fallen into bed. Was she really so important to her, that she'd break if Sharon left? How could she be sure of what she was feeling? After all, she'd only just ended things with Fritz, she'd never been with a woman before, and Sharon was a far cry from Will Pope or Fritz Howard in terms of personality type. On the other hand, Sharon knew that despite her attempts to bury her feelings, she couldn't deny the pull she felt towards Brenda. And it wasn't as though Brenda fit her type, either. Perhaps it could just be that easy, that they'd find each other so unexpectedly, and then fall so hard. They were alike in many ways, at least in terms of temerity, and sheer force of will. But then there were the differences. Brenda's total disregard for rules when they stood in her way. Her arrogance about the priority of Major Crime investigations. Her infuriating tendency to use her feminine wiles on Will Pope. Sharon narrowed her eyes at that thought. They'd have to talk about that. Then she grinned, because perhaps _she_ could flirt with him to get _her_ way now, if that bumbling moment in the hall at the precinct had been any indication. Snorting, she turned to wrap Brenda in her arms, realizing she just wasn't a flirt. She'd leave that to the blonde woman curled against her. Resting her cheek on Brenda's head, she closed her eyes, hoping to catch a few more hours of sleep.

The cheerful tinkling of Brenda's cellphone broke into her dream, pulling her into instant awareness. She rolled off the bed, and banged her thigh on the nightstand. Frowning, she looked around, and remembered that this wasn't her house. Or her room. Or her bed. She turned, and saw Sharon curled up on her side, the covers down around her waist, her upper body bare and beautiful. Brenda pulled the covers up around her, smoothing her hair back from her cheek, and turned to find her dress. Pulling it over her head, she went downstairs in search of her purse, grinning when she saw it dropped haphazardly near the door. She found her phone, and saw that Gabriel had called. Pressing the button to call him back, she leaned against the door, and tried to repress the shiver as she recalled pressing Sharon against this very spot.

"Gabriel" The detective intoned once he answered.

"Detective. It's me, I had a hard time finding my phone. What's up?"

"We have a case. And I know you said it needed to be an emergency before we called, but, I think you're going to want to come down here." He replied, hoping beyond hope he hadn't interrupted anything.

"That's fine, I'll be right there, but what exactly am I going to be dealing with, Detective?" Brenda closed her eyes, regretting that her plans for feeding Sharon strawberries for breakfast would have to wait.

"Uh, two paramedics were killed in their bus. It's uh..It looks not good, Chief."

"Okay. All right. Do that thing where you send my phone the directions, and I'll be there as soon as I can.

"Will do, Chief."

Brenda snapped her phone closed, and stomped her foot. Dating a collegue was going to be tougher than she thought. She jogged back up the steps, and shook Sharon awake.

"Hey. What time is it?" Sharon asked, as she stretched sleepily.

"It's about 3 in the morning. I just wanted to let you know that I caught a case, and I'm going to go home and get changed." Brenda answered, resting her hand on the blankets covering Sharon's stomach.

"How bout you give me a minute, and I can drive you?" Sharon started to sit up, but Brenda pushed her back down.

"I can call a taxi, it's no trouble at all. Guess for our second date, we should take two cars, just in case, though."

Sharon smiled widely. "Already planning a second date, then?"

Brenda blushed, but nodded.

"Anyway. I didn't want you to think I was sneaking off in the dead of night because I had any regrets. I mean, I have one…because I'd planned on having you and strawberries for breakfast, but beyond that, I'd say our first date was as perfect as it gets."

"I wish you'd let me take you home." Sharon groused.

"There's no reason for both of us to be up if we don't have to, Sharon. It's sweet that you want to drive me, but I'll be fine. I took cabs home from Fritz's for ages, because he had weird ideas about driving separate cars on dates." Brenda realized her mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

"I'm driving you home." Sharon's tone matched the stormy look on her face, as she sat up, the covers falling away from her body.

"On one condition." Brenda grinned.

"What?"

"Kiss me." She leaned in, and felt the soft warmth of Sharon's lips as they met hers. Deepening the kiss, she skimmed her hands down Sharon's arms, pulling her close. Their tongues touched, and Brenda whimpered, before breaking the kiss.

"I wish…GOD murderers have awful timing!" She groaned. "You have to put clothes on, or I'm not going to be responsible for my next course of action, Captain."

"Is that an order, Chief?" Sharon leaned back on one elbow, and raised her eyebrow.

Brenda leaned down and wrapped her lips around a taut nipple, grazing it with her teeth. Sharon gasped, and arched into the sensation.

"Clothes, Cap'n." Brenda stood up and glanced around for her wayward bra.

Having gathered all of the clothes she'd shed, she watched as Sharon brushed out her hair, then pulled on a white tee shirt, and the most expensive looking pair of blue jeans Brenda had ever seen.

"Good lord," she whispered, as Sharon bent to pull on a pair of sandals. The jeans could've been a thousand dollars, and it still would've been worth it, just for that view. The fabric hugged and stretched, and Brenda thought perhaps, in her next life, she'd like to be the jeans. Those jeans. On that ass.

Sharon cleared her throat, and Brenda snapped her head up, realizing that Sharon was staring over her shoulder.

"See anything you like?" The dark haired woman grinned.

"I, yes. Yes I do. And I think that whatever our second date involves, it'll be casual. But you have to wear those jeans."

Sharon turned around, then, and Brenda groaned, closing her eyes.

"You're trying to kill me. You must be. It's all a plot, right? With me out of the way, Provenza will take over Major Crimes, and you'll be able to relax, is that it?"

"What on earth are you talking about, Brenda?" Sharon asked, walking over to her.

Brenda opened one eye, and gestured in the general direction of Sharon's torso.

"That shirt. No bra. I'm turning into Andy Flynn." She said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Sharon burst into laughter, her hair falling forward as she doubled over.

"I'm glad you think it's funny." Brenda grumped, but the smile playing at the corner of her mouth gave her away.

Still chuckling, Sharon put her arm around Brenda's shoulders and steered her towards the door.

"Let's go. Your chariot awaits."

As they pulled up in front of Brenda's house, she turned to look at Sharon.

"Thank you, for a lovely evening. I had a really good time."

"Me too. I was worried that we wouldn't…that it wouldn't be…" Sharon trailed off.

"That it was just a physical attraction, and we'd fail conversationally?" Brenda asked.

"Yes. That." Sharon answered, blushing.

"I was worried about that too. You're not the most talkative person on the Force." Brenda laughed.

"Well, at work, I talk about work. I don't see the benefit in splashing my personal life all over the department, so it's rare that I talk about it."

"So then I don't have to worry that my phone number is going to grace the walls of the ladies room? For a good time, call Chief Johnson?" Brenda teased.

Sharon let out a short laugh. "Unlikely, but I reserve that right depending on how the next joint Major Crimes/FID investigation goes."

Brenda laughed, and leaned over, pressing her lips gently against Sharon's.

"I'll call you later. Maybe we can grab lunch, if things with this case aren't too nutty."

"Okay. Go get the bad guys." Sharon replied, leaning in for one more kiss.

Brenda was loathe to release her lips, but duty called, so she broke the kiss, and got out of the car, putting a little extra swing in her hips as she walked to the front door. She figured Sharon would watch to make sure she got in the house safely, and she couldn't resist giving her a little show. Pushing the door open, she turned, and waved as the Captain pulled away. She fed Joel, and ran up the steps to change. She pondered taking a shower, but the lingering scent of Sharon Raydor lent her a sense of calm, so she just pulled on a beige skirt, and dark top, and scampered down to her own car, and made her way to the crime scene.


	36. Chapter 36

Brenda stood in front of the empty ambulance, breathing deeply.

"Where are the bodies?"

"Uh, they moved the bodies, Chief, that's what I was trying to tell you."

"Well for heaven's sake! Didn't anybody tell them this was a crime scene?" Brenda knew that her anger was misplaced, but honestly. They'd gotten her out of bed with Sharon, and now, there weren't even any bodies!

"There's something else," Tao said, handing her a clipboard. "This is a run sheet, and it says here, that they performed a Georgia Street Lift." He grinned expectantly.

"Well, what does that mean, Lieutenant?"

Tao gestured to Gabriel, and wrapped his arms around Brenda's ribcage, as Gabriel lifted her by the calves. Brenda startled, and put her hands on top of Tao's.

"Oh! Well then call the hospital, and tell them to BAG HER HANDS, for goodness sake!" Brenda straightened her jacket.

Glancing around the scene, she tried to imagine where the killer might've gone. Just then, Gabriel approached.

"You know, there's only one route from the park to the hospital, at least, as far as ambulances are concerned. If this wasn't a random killing, maybe the killer had an accomplice here waiting?"

"Two killers, then. Okay. Let's see if there's any surveillance in the area that might help, and since we don't have any bodies here, let's go to where the bodies are."

Brenda looked at the woman laid out on the slab. She was young, and pretty, with the kind of mouth you knew would have an easy smile. She watched as Tao blew the fingerprint dust gently over the gloved hands, and then saw Dr. Morales stalk away from the table, wincing and pulling his scrub cap off.

"Everything alright, Doctor?" She asked, moving towards him.

"That's Anna Vargas. We were friends. Good friends." He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, and looked away, eyes glimmering.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Doctor. You don't need to do the autopsy right now, we're just here to get the fingerprints. We can have another Doctor handle this, if you'd rather."

Tao lifted the prints with clear tape, and showed the result to Brenda.

"Looks like we've got one clear one. Okay. Let's go run that, and, uh, let's see where we stand on the 911 call."

She followed Tao out of the morgue, pausing to rest her hand gently on Morales' shoulder.

"I am sorry, Doctor. Let me know if you need us to reassign this."

Brenda remained silent on the way back up to the murder room, deep in thought. Hopefully Tao had already handed the prints off, because the sooner she could move on this, the better she'd feel. She glanced at her watch, and wondered if Sharon was still sleeping, or if, and at this thought, her heart thudded, if she was in the shower already. "Ohh. That woman." She groaned, pushing her hair back from her face. Stepping off the elevator, and moving towards her office, she saw Gabriel moving towards her.

"We got a match on the prints!" he gestured to where Buzz sat at a computer terminal.

"Already? Well that was fast. And this is why we don't move the bodies." Brenda walked over to the desk, and leaned over, peering at the screen.

"Kevin Mason. He applied to the LAFD." Gabriel passed Brenda a folder.

"Hope they rejected him." Buzz mumbled, as he enlarged the print image on the screen.

"They did," Gabriel replied, "four times. The last time was in 2007, which is when he seems to have fallen off of the map."

"Okay. Let's run down all of his known addresses, and see what we can shake loose." Brenda snapped the folder closed.

She turned towards her office, but stopped as Sanchez and Flynn approached.

"We got a hit on that cell phone. It's a prepaid job, first used today." Sanchez reported.

"But, it's got an FBI flag on it, because it was purchased along with another phone, that was used in an unsolved bombing attempt, two years back." Flynn elaborated.

"Okay. Thank you, gentlemen." Brenda replied.

She started off towards her office, and her heart sank at the sight of Will Pope's stiff shoulders leaned against her door. Sighing, she moved towards him, her lips pursed thinly.

"Will. This is a nice surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Two years ago, there was a bomb planted outside the IRS office. Counter-Terrorism investigated, didn't find anything. Chief Delk turned it over to the FBI." Pope explained.

"Chief!" Tao called to her from across the room, as he sat down in front of another computer.

Glancing at Pope, Brenda shrugged her shoulders, and walked over to see what Tao had found. She could feel Pope standing behind her, air whistling nasally as he breathed. They listened to the 911 call, and Tao noted that the caller sounded out of breath, just like the patient the paramedics had picked up.

"So, the caller might be our killer." Brenda surmised, as she walked back to her office, Pope hot on her heels. "But, tell me again why we think these two murders are related to an unsolved terrorist attack from two years ago?"

"Brenda, look, if these were ordinary homicides, I would let you pursue this investigation, but these murders are now linked with an ongoing joint investigation between our own C-T unit, and the FBI!" He kept his voice calm, but the vein in his forehead told Brenda that he was expecting her to put up a fight. She didn't want to disappoint. "Please note the use of the words _terrorism _and _Tommy Delk_." He continued, his voice dropping into a tone of reproach.

"What kind of a grown man calls himself _Tommy_ anyway?" Brenda muttered, then scowled as the name finally clicked. "Oh! He's on the short list for chief! That's why you want me to deal with him."

"No, no." Will stuttered, looking chagrined. "This is good police work. And they're going to be here any time now, because they had a flag on that phone number. My advice, is to put out the welcome mat."

"I'd rather wait until I have something to trade!" Brenda groaned, exasperated.

"You do. You have fingerprints, and a name. So let's go sit down with Delk, and figure this out. He's got a bit of an ego on him, but he's not unreasonable." Will gave her the smile he used when he was trying to be charming, forgetting that it hadn't ever worked on her.

"Only if he understands that until I talk with him, he's not to speak to the FBI."

"Believe me. If these cases are connected, it'll be a huge help." Pope exhaled loudly.

"If I find this 911 caller, I won't need any of his help." Brenda retorted, rubbing her neck in frustration as Pope left.


	37. Chapter 37

At her desk, Brenda rested her head in her hands as she peered at the run sheet filled out by the paramedics for the 5th time that morning. It just didn't make sense, that the patient could present with legitimate symptoms like depressed respiration, and dilated pupils. Faking a seizure, sure, but the rest of it seemed too real. She walked out to the murder room, and posed her query to Tao, as he triangulated the cell phone.

"I'm not sure how they'd fake it Chief, but I'll research it while I wait for the cell to ping." He grinned reassuringly, and dropped his thick framed glasses down from his forehead, leaning in to focus on the screen.

"Thank you, lieutenant. I'm just going…out. I'll be quick. And I have my phone." Brenda cringed at how guilty she sounded. She'd have to do better in the future. She pushed out of the murder room, and headed for the wheelchair accessible restroom. Ducking inside, she pulled out her cell phone, and quickly dialed a number she'd never really expected to memorize.

"FID, Raydor." Sharon's no nonsense voice sent heat flooding into Brenda's cheeks.

"How can a person fake respiratory distress? Or increased heart rate? Or dilated pupils?" Brenda blurted the first thing on her mind.

"It's nice to hear your voice too, Chief." Sharon chuckled, leaning back in her chair and spinning around to face away from her squad, hiding her mirth.

"Sorry. Hi. How are you?" Brenda replied sheepishly.

"I'm quite good. And, I should think that blood pressure medication, or something along those lines, if taken by a healthy person, would cause weird symptoms like that. Why? What sort of case have you gotten?" Sharon tucked the phone between her ear and her shoulder, and absently scratched at her wrist.

Brenda explained the case, stopping petulantly when Sharon laughed at her for being incensed over having to cooperate with Delk.

"It's not funny! That man is so…he's so…arrogant! And entitled!" She fumed.

"Why do I suspect you've said much the same thing about me, behind my back?" Sharon replied cheekily.

"That's not the point, Cap'n. The point is, I'm investigating a double homicide, not a cold case from 2 years ago. It isn't my fault that Counter-Terrorism and the FBI couldn't figure things out. But they can't mess up MY investigation now, because they MIGHT have a clue."

"But, if the bombing is related, then perhaps the CTU and the FBI are the most well-equipped departments to handle things. You're an exemplary woman, Brenda, but I don't think you know how to diffuse a bomb." Sharon pointed out, a small smile playing at her lips.

"Ohhh. Shoot. I have to go," Brenda groaned, glancing at her watch, "thank you, for…Thanks. This was nice. I don't know when I'll be out of here tonight, so…" Brenda trailed off, unsure of proper etiquette.

"Feel free to give me a call, if you'd like. I'm usually up reading. I'll tell you if you've woken me." Sharon grinned, enjoying the uncharacteristic hesitation in the Chief.

"All right then. I will. You take care now. Buh-bye." Brenda snapped her phone closed, and leaned against the door. She felt steadier, somehow, now that she'd talked to Sharon. Shaking her head, she headed back to Tao, to suggest the medication angle for narrowing his search.

Walking back into the murder room, she found Provenza at the board.

"Here's my question. Where does Kevin Mason vanish to, for 3 years?" he asked, as Brenda leaned in to whisper to Tao.

"I don't know, Lieutenant," she sighed, straightening up, "but we better find him before he disappears again."

She started to say something else, but the jangle of her phone diverted her attention. Pulling it out of her sweater pocket, she saw an unfamiliar little 1 up in the corner.

"Lieutenant Tao? What's this little number 1 on my phone mean?" She asked, holding it out to him.

"You have a text message. Just hit this button here," he gestured, "and it should pop right up for you."

"Thank you so much." Brenda pressed the button, and tried not to gasp as she read the words on the screen.

_It seems that I'm unable to stop thinking about last night, considering every time I cross my legs, I feel a surprisingly pleasant ache in my thighs._

_ ~s_

Brenda could feel the blush creeping across her cheeks, as she attempted to figure out the 'reply' button.

_I suppose offering to massage your aches and pains might not work out exactly the way it ought to, hmm? -b ps. How'd you make the cute squiggly dash?_

Hitting send, she felt remarkably proud of herself for managing to figure out the whole, 'texting' thing, without too much help. Glancing away from the screen, she realized the rest of her squad was looking at her curiously.

"Can I help you?" She snapped, fixing her glare on each man.

"You're texting now?" Flynn snorted in disbelief.

"I think she said her niece was coming in to town. It's probably her." Gabriel piped up, arching a brow in her direction.

"Well, not that it's any of y'alls concern, but yes, Charlie is due in for a visit. You know how they are, with the iPips and whatnot." Brenda smiled gratefully at Gabriel.

"Pod, Chief." Provenza muttered, drawing surprised looks from Tao and Buzz.

"What's that, Lieutenant?" Brenda asked, turning to face him.

"iPod. Not iPip. Though, a Gladys Knight app would be a thing I'd download, if I did that sort of thing." He snorted a short laugh, not paying any attention to the incredulous faces of his fellow officers.

"Yes. Well. Thank you for that, Lieutenant." Brenda spun on her heel, and walked briskly towards her office. She schooled her features into a mask of indifference when her phone jangled halfway there, and made sure not to look at the screen until she was seated at her desk.

_If you're offering, I'm accepting. And the cute little dash is called a tilde. You can find it under symbols._

_ ~s_

Brenda pushed her glasses up on her nose, and peered at the tiny keys. "Symbol…I don't see a symbol key. Ohh that woman! Honestly. Texting at our age. Whatever happened to using the kings English and the voice god gave you?" She muttered under her breath as she mashed the menu key with her thumb. Blinking, she pondered Sharon saying those words out loud, and the dampness between her thighs was immediate and obvious. Smiling devilishly, she pecked out another reply.

_I'm offering. I can't speak to the ache, but if Forensics got a hold of me just now, our secret would be out. –b_

_Oh my. Chief. What time will you be finished, do you suppose?_

_ ~s_

_Right now, it's looking like 7, maybe 8? Is that too late for dinner? Also, you're the only person who texts me. You don't have to sign them. It is cute, though, that little squiggly dash. Sorry, tilde. –b_

_We can do a late dinner. Where would you like to go?_

_ ~s_

_Takeout, at my place? Or yours, but I'll have to go feed Joel. –b_

_Your place is fine. I'm rather fond of your kitty. And Joel is nice too._

_ ~s_

_CAPTAIN! Good lord. _

Sharon laughed out loud, imagining the blush dancing across Brenda's cheeks, and decided to leave the last remark stand, until it was time to cement the plans for the evening. Setting her phone aside, she glanced up to find Sgt. Elliot staring at her as though she'd suddenly turned purple with orange polka dots.

"Was there anything you needed, Sargent?" She asked, her words clipped and frosty.

"No, Captain. I just..it's good to hear you laughing. You have a nice laugh." The young Sargent blushed, and looked back down at his desk, suddenly engrossed in a file there.

Sharon returned to her own paperwork, a strange feeling of elation making the triplicate forms seem less daunting.

Brenda, for her part, was busily running down leads with Gabriel at her side, though if he noticed her checking her watch every 10 minutes, he was wise enough not to say anything. And if he noticed her agitation increasing as it got closer to the evening, he didn't mention that either. Around 6:45, he rolled his shoulders, and turned to face her.

"Listen. I don't think we're going to get much else done tonight, and I'd like to get home. If there's nothing else, I can give you a lift back to your car?"

"Yes, Detective, that would be just fine. Thank you." Brenda sighed with relief. She might have time for a shower, if she beat the traffic.


	38. Chapter 38

Hopping out of the shower, Brenda gave her body a quick swipe with the towel, before wrapping her hair up tightly, squeezing the moisture out. She grabbed her magnolia body lotion, and slathered some on, wincing as it stung the places on her legs the razor had rubbed raw. She needed to remember to buy blades. That had fallen to Fritz over the last few years, and Brenda was out of practice. She slicked on her deodorant, then stood in front of her closet, frowning at her selection. She flipped through dresses, and then rolled her eyes at herself. It was takeout, at her own house, for pete's sake. She pulled out her comfortable jeans, the ones that hung low on her hips. She shimmied into a pair of scant emerald panties, and then pulled the jeans on, topping the outfit with a snug fitting cream colored pull over.

At 8:00 on the dot, her doorbell rang. Unable to hide her grin, she jogged barefoot down the stairs, and looked through the peep hole, Sharon's unmistakable hair shining in the lamplight.

"It never fails to amaze me, how punctual you are." She said, as she stepped back to let Sharon in.

"Military training. I can't help it." Sharon replied, handing off one of the greasy bags of food, and setting her purse on the table in the entry way.

"Military? Why am I not surprised." Brenda mumbled as she made her way to the kitchen, with Sharon close behind.

"You mean to tell me, you never bothered to read my jacket?" Sharon's voice rose in disbelief.

"I…no. That's not my business, you're not in my department." Brenda shook her head, pulling plates and napkins out, and setting them on the counter.

"I know that. But, you so rarely do what's expected." Sharon replied, meeting her gaze.

Brenda saw a flash of something in those unfathomable eyes, and her impulse control, which was tenuous under the best of circumstances, broke down. She crossed the small space in two long strides, and put her hands on either side of Sharon's face, before leaning in to capture her lips in a ferocious kiss. She slid her hands down, tracing the smooth skin of Sharon's throat, skimming her fingers lightly over her shoulders, and down her arms, letting them come to rest gently on her hips. She swept her tongue out, desperate to taste the dark chocolate flavor of Sharon's mouth, and couldn't swallow the moan of pleasure that bubbled up at the first touch of their tongues. She smelled so good. Even through the grease of whatever peculiar form of take-out, the scent of oranges and something uniquely Sharon was clouding Brenda's senses. The idea of taking time to eat the food while it was still hot was thrown to the wayside, as she backed Sharon up to the counter, shoving the bags and plates out of the way, and then hoisted her up, coming to rest between her legs.

"Brenda," Sharon husked as they broke for air. "That part not doing what's expected, that wasn't a challenge."

Brenda hummed, as she slid her hands under Sharon's blouse, spreading her palms across the hot skin of her abdomen.

"I can't wait for dessert, Cap'n." Brenda murmured against Sharon's neck as she trailed her tongue down, latching on to the skin stretched over her collarbone. She wanted to leave a mark, to let everyone know that Sharon was _hers, _but she resisted, instead nipping gently, before she kissed her way down a generous swell of breast, unbuttoning the tiny, pearlescent buttons as she moved. She flicked her tongue through the lace, laving the puckering nipple with her tongue.

"Oh, that's good. You're good. But the food is going to get cold." Sharon gasped, threading her fingers in Brenda's still slightly damp hair.

"Don't care. You wore those jeans. And you're punctual. And military." Brenda's voice was muffled by the material covering Sharon's breasts.

"This is all because I was on time?" Sharon's laugh turned into a moan as Brenda yanked the cups of her bra out of the way, and wrapped her lips around a nipple, sucking hard.

"And, because I have to make up for some lost time," Brenda glanced up, before placing a gentle kiss between Sharon's breasts, "because you were a chicken. Mostly, though, it's the jeans." She dragged her hands sensuously over Sharon's thighs, feeling the damp heat where they met. She pressed her thumbs along the seam, and Sharon hissed, then tugged on Brenda's hair, dragging her lips up for a searing kiss. She wrapped her legs around Brenda's waist, using the leverage to scoot forward, then slithered down off of the counter, sighing into the kiss as Brenda's hands came to rest on her ass, pulling her closer.

"I wasn't a chicken, I was cautious. But all of THAT is over now." Sharon whispered, flicking her tongue along the lobe of Brenda's ear. She grabbed the hem of Brenda's shirt, and pulled it up and over her head in one fluid motion, relishing the whimper that came from Brenda's throat as their breasts touched, skin to skin.

"You like these jeans, do you?" Sharon asked, as she deftly unbuttoned the pair Brenda was wearing, shoving them down to the linoleum.

"You have no idea. I never really thought I'd ever understand the banter between Flynn and Provenza when they get going but you…that backside, is just SINFUL in those pants."

"Backside?" Sharon muffled her laugh with a quick kiss to Brenda's shoulder, as she spun them around so that Brenda was leaning against the counter.

"Fine, Captain. You have the most magnificent ass I have ever laid eyes on." Brenda ground out, as she leaned in for another kiss.

"I know." Sharon replied, hooking her thumbs into Brenda's panties, and pulling them down, shoving her denim clad thigh between the blonde's naked ones. She twisted pebbled nipples between her skilled fingers, and rocked forward with her hips, starting a rhythmic friction.

Brenda gasped as the rough fabric slid against her, her head dropping back on her shoulders, as Sharon licked along her neck, nibbling gently, before leaning down to catch a nipple between her lips. She watched through hooded eyes, as Brenda moaned, and rolled her hips, relishing the slick heat of her arousal seeping through her pantleg. A slow flush had spread over Brenda's body, and a thin sheen of sweat shone beneath the florescent overhead light, and Sharon thought it might be the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She moved one hand to Brenda's hip, guiding her thrusts, watching the muscles of her abdomen quiver and tense beneath her pale skin.

"How do you like the jeans now, Brenda?" She murmured, her voice dripping like sex.

"Oh god. I love them. I do." Brenda cried out, circling her hips rapidly.

Sharon traced a path over Brenda's stomach, brushing gently over blonde curls, before she pushed her hand between Brenda's heated center, and her own thigh, pressing her fingers deep, and dragging her thumb over her clit in a slow rotation.

"You're going to come for me now, aren't you?" Sharon hummed, letting her tongue trace the curve of Brenda's ear. "You're going to come, and you're going to say my name when you do, because I'm the one who's making you feel like this." She bit gently on Brenda's ear, and twisted her hand between them.

"Oh, Jesus! Sharon! Fuck me!" Brenda groaned, as the tension mounted low in her belly.

"I am. Now come." Sharon growled, crooking her fingers, and pressing her thumb roughly against the swollen nub.

Brenda felt the pressure release, as she squeezed her eyes shut, bright pops of color exploding behind her eyelids, in time with the spasms that shook her body.

"Oh my god. Oh. I'm not sure I can stay standing, just yet." She muttered, hanging on to the taller woman's shoulders.

"I've got you. You're okay." Sharon pressed tender, closed mouth kisses along Brenda's jaw.

"You know, you don't actually always have to go first. I might be better at this whole, sleeping with women thing if I wasn't doing it half jellied from a mind blowing orgasm." Brenda griped, finding her footing again, despite the quaking in her thighs.

"I think you do just fine. But I'll keep that in mind for next time. Are you ready for dinner?" Sharon grinned, stepping back, and looking at the pile of discarded clothes, hoping to find their shirts.

"No. I was in the middle of something, and you interrupted me." Brenda threaded her hands in Sharon's hair, and pulled her in for a kiss.

"Mmmm." Sharon hummed into the kiss, before pulling away. "Let's eat. And then you can finish what you started. All right?" She bent down, and picked up her blouse, and Brenda's pullover.

"Fine. But you better eat fast, because if I finish first, you're going to have to figure out how to multi-task, Cap'n."

"Deal, Chief." Sharon smiled, and shrugged into her blouse, leaving it unbuttoned. She turned to fetch the now cooled bags of food, while Brenda pulled her jeans back on.

Setting the table, Brenda watched the dark haired woman move, her hips swaying even with the small steps she took between the counter and the table. She thought about having those deadly legs hooked over her shoulders, and shivered as her body responded to the idea. Dinner was going to be a painfully slow ordeal, no matter how quickly they ate. But Brenda was confident that dessert would be an affair best savored slowly.


	39. Chapter 39

"Well, honestly. I don't understand why I have to cooperate with Delk at all. Why can't I just give the info to the FBI? Just because Fritzi and I aren't together anymore, doesn't mean I can't still be on good terms with the rest of the L.A branch, right?" Brenda groused, as she stacked the plates and cups in the sink.

"Brenda, it's not as though Delk is out to sabotage your case. He has his own case, and the two of you can share the evidence, because you are, after all, on the same side. Don't work at cross-purposes with him, as he is also on the short list for Chief. He will likely also play nicely, to hedge his own bets. Just…don't let him get to you, okay?" Sharon replied, leaning over to gather the remnants of the wrappers and napkins, moving to deposit them in the trash can.

Brenda had turned, a sharp retort dying on her tongue, as Sharon bent to pick up the debris, and Brenda noticed a saucy little red lacey number peeking out from the still unbuttoned shirt.

"You know, I can clean this up tomorrow." She purred, moving to stand behind Sharon, sliding her hands up, fitting her fingers into the hollows between each rib. "I think we should move this little pow-wow to someplace more comfortable." She pressed her lips against the smooth fabric covering Sharon's shoulder, the sharp citrus tang flooding her nose, sending heat directly to her center.

It had never been like this, Brenda thought, as she slowly peeled the lace from Sharon's breasts, peppering kisses as she bared more skin. The sex she counted—high school fumbling didn't count, and she'd been too focused on college, to really date, so that left a handful of men—had never been so all encompassing. It had been pedestrian with her first long term boyfriend, and she remembered wondering what all the fuss had been about. She dipped her tongue into Sharon's navel, tracing a path wetly to the waistband of those jeans, catching the faint musk of arousal , and she clenched her thighs in defense, making quick work of the buttons, shoving the denim, and the satin panties beneath, down to Sharon's ankles, smirking as the older woman kicked them off. Sex with Will had been adventurous at first, if only because of his tendency to initiate it in stairwells and other places where getting caught was a distinct possibility. Brenda let her tongue follow the dip and crest of a well-defined calf, as she moved steadily towards her goal. Eventually, Will had gotten lazy, and, if she was honest, so had she. By the time she realized he wasn't leaving his wife, they'd been having cursory missionary position sex once a week, and one night, as she lay beneath him, she just couldn't see herself continuing to lie in the same spot, each Thursday, as he sweated away on top of her. That had been the last time she'd had sex with Will Pope.

Nuzzling her nose into auburn curls, Brenda moaned as the scent overwhelmed her. Fritz had been a fan of blow jobs, but he wasn't so keen on reciprocating, and as she licked into Sharon's humid center, she wondered if maybe he wasn't a little daft in the head. Teasing the tight bud with her tongue, she swirled circles, holding Sharon in place at the hips, relishing the weight of those shapely legs resting on her shoulders. Brenda was pretty sure she could make a second job out of this, as she speared her tongue, and thrust it inside of Sharon, her own core flooding at the sounds the dark haired woman was making. She'd always felt like sex needed to be ladylike with Fritz. Like even when she was on top, she was still expected to come first, and quietly, with no improper language, and then let him finish. She slipped two fingers into Sharon, feeling the resultant clench and shudder all the way up to her shoulder. She didn't think Sharon expected her to be ladylike, if the expletives falling from those perfect lips were any indication. Empowered by her realization, she grazed her teeth across Sharon's clit, before sucking it hard into her mouth, and pressing her tongue roughly against it. Brenda thought perhaps, if she applied herself, she might be able to make Sharon actually scream. Grinning at that thought, she moved so that the sensitive nub was trapped between her lips, and hummed in pleasure. Sharon's back arched, her hips snapped forward, thrusting Brenda's fingers deep enough to hit the roughened patch of skin, and she cried out, a long, drawn outsound, possible Brenda's name. Brenda kept up a steady rhythm with her tongue, and her fingers, wondering if she could tease a second orgasm out of Sharon.

"Wait, come up here for a minute," Sharon's voice was rough, and dry from the panting.

"I'm not quite done with dessert, though." Brenda replied, before slipping her tongue back into slickened folds.

"Trust me. Come here." Sharon's elegant fingers twined in Brenda's hair, emphasizing her directive.

"Fine." Brenda deliberately slid her nipples along Sharon's quivering thighs, smirking as the woman gasped beneath her.

"Here, just, like…this," Sharon groaned, as she settled Brenda between her thighs, feeling the velvet heat of their centers touching.

"Holy shit." Brenda whispered, as Sharon rolled her hips experimentally, causing a deliciously silken friction.

"Move with me." Sharon kept her hands on Brenda's hips, guiding the speed, as she raised her head to capture the younger woman's lips in a blistering kiss.

No, it had never, ever been like this, Brenda thought, as Sharon's tongue snaked sensuously along her own. Each thrust of her hips sent jangling bolts of need coursing through her, pooling hotly at the base of her spine. She gasped as Sharon bent one leg around her waist, pressing them even closer, and increasing the pressure. She looked down at the dark haired woman beneath her, the generally stoic, reserved, buttoned down woman, who was writhing against her, turgid nipples brushing against Brenda's with each gyration of their bodies. She buried her face against Sharon's neck, sucking hard at the skin beneath the exquisite slope of her jaw, as she felt the spasms wrack her body, met shudder for shiver by the quaking of the body beneath hers.

Moments passed, as they lay tangled together, the only sound in the room was the slowing of their rapid breathing. Brenda went to slide off of Sharon, mindful of the way it usually felt to her, to have someone treat her like an extension of the mattress. She was surprised to feel stern arms holding her in place.

"Stay here. It's nice, like this." Sharon murmured, turning to place a gentle kiss on Brenda's cheek.

"I don't want to squish you. You tell me when I get too heavy, okay?" Brenda replied, trying to discreetly shift some of her weight to her elbows.

"Mmmmhmm." Sharon drowsed, stroking her fingers over the bumps of Brenda's spine.

"Good. That's good." Brenda nestled her head into the curve of Sharon's shoulder, stifling a yawn. "I hope you brought work clothes for tomorrow."

"They're in my trunk."

"Presumptuous." Brenda quipped.

"I had hopes for breakfast in bed."

"You better go sleep in the kitchen, then."

"Chief? Shut up." Sharon laughed.

"Make me."

So Sharon flipped over, pinning the blonde woman to the mattress, pressing a smirking kiss to her surprised lips.

Brenda kissed back, scowling.

_Ohhh. That woman!_


	40. Chapter 40

Sharon woke to the alarm. Peering blearily out of one eye, she smacked the snooze button, and sighed into the pillow, settling in for 20 more minutes. Seconds later, both of her eyes flew open. Gently, she rolled over, to see Brenda curled up, the covers twisted at her ribs. Sharon took some deep breaths. Generally, she didn't stay the night. She wasn't so rude as to kick a guest out, if she took them back to her place, but she never slept at anyone else's house. This made twice, and, she looked around, this was NOT the guest room. She frowned at the mattress. _This better not be his side, _she thought crossly. Brenda stirred, rolling partly onto her back, her arm flopping down onto the comforter. She mumbled a bit, then sighed, and whispered 'Sharon'. Sharon looked down at her, expecting to see her coming into wakefulness, but instead, Brenda's mouth hung open, and a small snore escaped. _She's dreaming about me._ _Okay. That's good, right? She said she's all in. So this won't end like the last time. Pull it together, Raydor._ She moved closer to Brenda, snugging the covers back up to the younger woman's shoulders, before settling in, wrapping an arm around Brenda's waist, shaping her body to conform to the curve of Brenda's back.

When the alarm blared for the second time, Sharon sat up, and turned it off. She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the tangles at the back. She groaned, knowing her detangling conditioner was back at her place. That meant at least 15 minutes of combing, which meant that her shoulder would ache for the rest of the day. Glancing over at Brenda, she reached out, trailing a finger along the curve of her hip.

"Brenda. I'm pretty sure you have to be awake to go make me breakfast in bed." Sharon teased, gently shaking her.

"Told you to sleep in the kitchen for that. Hit the snooze button and come here." Brenda mumbled into her pillow.

"I hit it once already. And then I cuddled you, because you were freezing. Now," she said, yanking the covers down, "it's time for you to get up. We have to decide who gets the shower first."

"If you hit the snooze button, we can have 15 more minutes. We'll still be on time, I promise."

"How are you doing the math? Or do you take super-speedy showers, and forego hair-drying in favor of sleeping longer?" Sharon quipped.

Brenda propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling forward over her shoulders, and glared sleepily at Sharon.

"I have a plan. The coffee maker makes coffee. It'll be ready in about 30 minutes. So if you hit the snooze button, we can snooze for another 15, shower together, and be downstairs for a hot cuppa in plenty of time to make it to the station. Even with the way _you_ drive." Brenda retorted, pushing Sharon towards the alarm.

Sharon let loose a volley of giggles. Brenda scowled. Her plan was sound, but it was all predicated on Sharon hitting the damned snooze button. But then Sharon looked at her, a smile still quirking her mouth.

"Showering together saves time?" She asked, wiping her eyes.

"And the planet. Now hit the snooze button. We're down to 12 minutes."

"Mmm. There's no breakfast in bed in that plan." Sharon pointed out.

"I didn't think the wicked witch ate breakfast. Or at least, nothing that us mortals have in the fridge. Maybe, in addition to depriving damsels of their sleep, you also eat BABIES FOR BREAKFAST." Brenda grumped.

"You really aren't a morning person, are you?" Sharon chuckled again, flicking the alarm, then, leaned back and gathered Brenda into her arms.

"No. Now hush." Brenda settled her head on Sharon's shoulder, and closed her eyes.

Sharon absently ran a finger through Brenda's tousled curls, and tried to relax into the moment. She could feel the soft puff of Brenda's breath across her breast, the pleasant weight of her leg thrown carelessly across her thighs. She remembered lazing in bed, but it seemed a luxury from a lifetime ago, before she'd gotten her heart broken. Closing her eyes, she thought back to the last time she'd felt so safe, and shuddered as she remembered how wrong she'd been.

_Sharon joined the military right out of high school, to help pay for college. In her basic training camp, she met a nice young man named Sebastian, and they'd gotten along well. They shared an interest in politics, and public safety, and he was pleasantly easy to talk to. His eyes were so blue, and even with the close military cut, his hair was thick, and the color of warm sand. When he invited her out to dinner, she couldn't think of a reason to say no. That seemed to set the tone for the rest of their relationship. He asked her to go steady. To marry him. To have his children. Through it all, she couldn't come up with a compelling reason to decline. And then they were stationed in New Mexico, and Sharon's service was finally up. She interviewed with the police department there, hoping for a spot on the Homicide team. Sitting across from the Chief, she watched as his meaty lips moved the unlit cigar to the other side of his mouth. _

"_Only thing we got with any room for upward movement is Internal Affairs. Nobody wants that department. All wanna be rockstars on Homicide, or Vice. Take it or leave it." He rasped, his voice like rocks in a quarry. _

_Sharon took the position, and met the Captain in charge of I.A. Her name was Mechelle, and she was at least 10 years older than Sharon. Her skin was the color of warm caramel; her eyes were wide and brown. She kept her hair cut short, close to her head. "Natural", she'd called it. Sharon had wondered what qualified as 'unnatural', and was treated to a 20 minute discourse on hair politics, and race privilege. She'd been both chastened, and exhilarated. Mechelle was smart, not just in a street smart cop sort of way, but about many things. There was so much Sharon could learn, and she applied herself eagerly to the task. A year became 2, then 3, then 5, and Sharon made the rank of Lieutenant. She'd been so excited. She'd called Sebastian with the news, and he gave her perfunctory congratulations, before returning to a round of golf. Sharon had forgiven his lack of enthusiasm when she'd made the ranks of Corporal, and even Sargent, because the Department had told her that her Military training would fast track her. But she'd made Lieutenant in 5 years. His indifference was starting to grate. _

_The Captain called her into the office that afternoon. She'd pinned the gold bar to Sharon's uniform, and given her a firm handshake._

"_Lieutenant Raydor, I am proud to serve with you." She'd said, her voice professional, and distant. Then, she'd dropped the handshake, and thrown her arms around Sharon, lifting her up and spinning her._

"_5 years! Fastest promotion to Lieutenant in the history of our department!" She put Sharon back on her feet, but Sharon was dizzy from the circles, and from the feeling of being pressed against all those soft curves. She'd stumbled a bit, and Mechelle reached out, catching her by the arm. _

_Sharon looked up, and her emotions must have been written all over her face, because the Captain immediately schooled her features into the professional mask, and walked back around to sit at her desk. _

"_We'll be expecting great things from you, Lieutenant. Don't disappoint me." She'd said, before turning back to her paperwork. _

_But everything was different after that. Sharon excelled as Lieutenant, of course. The squad respected her. But she couldn't get the memory of being in Mechelle's arms out of her head. It had all felt so right. So perfect. So everything she never felt with Sebastian. Though lately, she had to admit she wasn't feeling much of anything with Sebastian. Still, she'd married him, after all, and she was not a quitter. The eve of her 29__th__ birthday, during their 9__th__ year of marriage, when her children were 5 and 3, things hit critical mass. _

"_What do you mean, you won't make it to dinner? The kids baked you a cake!" Sebastian growled into the phone._

"_I wish I could be there. I would rather not work on the last birthday of my 20's. But we've got a multiple OIS, and the Captain needs all hands on deck. It's my job, Bastian. I don't climb all over your ass when you're training recruits, and staying at Basic for days at a time, give me the same courtesy." She retorted sharply._

"_I'm home for every holiday. Every birthday." His voice had gone cold._

"_I'm sorry, Bastian. I'll try to be there before they're in bed. I lov—" But the dial tone let her know that her platitudes would go unanswered. Slowly, she replaced the receiver, blinking back the tears. She was thankful that the Department was small enough for the Lieutenant in I.A. to warrant a broom-closet sized office. She pressed her hands to her temples, regaining her composure bit by bit. A knock at her office door brought her back to the present._

"_Lieutenant, I need four of the Form 798—what's wrong?" The Captain stepped in, closing the door behind her. _

"_Nothing, I'm fine. Do you need 798-1 or 798-A?" Sharon pushed her chair back from her desk, swiveling to reach the filing cabinet off to the side. _

"_A. Are you crying? Were you crying?" Mechelle moved to stand next to Sharon's chair, placing a hand on her shoulder._

"_No. I'm fine, as I said. Thank you. Here are four Form 798-A's, Captain. Did you need anything else?" Sharon replied, standing up._

"_You know if you need anything, Lieutenant, I'm here. I need your head in the game when we go out there, and sometimes talking it out helps." Mechelle pressed._

"_Fine. It's my birthday. And I'm at work. And my husband is mad at me for disappointing our children again. But the worst part," Sharon sniffled, dabbing at her eyes, careful not to smudge her mascara, "The worst part, is that I'd rather be here, than at home with my family." _

_The Captain pulled Sharon into a gentle embrace, shushing her._

"_It's okay to love your job. And I understand why you do. You're exceptionally talented. Don't ever feel badly for excelling. But, Sharon, it's your birthday. I can let you get home for dinner. We're a good team, thanks in no small part to the organizational procedures you've implemented over the last few years. We can manage until tomorrow. Go home. Be with your husband. And, happy birthday." Mechelle patted her shoulder, stepping back._

"_I can't." Sharon whispered._

"_What do you mean?" _

"_I can't go home, and pretend that I love the meatloaf I know he's made. He makes it every year on my birthday, because it's all he knows how to cook from scratch. It's awful. It tastes like paprika'd cardboard. I can't go home and pretend that it doesn't hurt that he'll have gotten me yet another home appliance. Just once, I'd like a nice necklace, or expensive pair of shoes. I'm practical, but I'm still a woman!" Sharon burst out._

_Mechelle took her hand, rubbing her thumb across Sharon's knuckles. _

"_I can't." Sharon repeated._

"_Is there more?" The Captain turned a concerned eye to Sharon, meeting her gaze._

"_I can't understand…" Sharon trailed off, looking down at the floor._

"_Understand what…why…" Sharon stammered, not knowing how to finish._

_A slender hand lifted Sharon's chin, forcing eye contact._

"_Understand what, Lieutenant. What is it that you aren't telling me?" She demanded, her brow furrowed with worry._

"_I don't understand THIS!" Sharon cried, stepping forward and pressing her lips to the Captain's. At first, they were frozen, neither woman moving, but then Sharon put one hand on the Captain's hip, and Mechelle began to move her lips over Sharon's. It was brief, but electric, and when they broke apart, both women were slightly dazed._

_Mechelle broke the silence first._

"_I suppose that would be confusing." She said, smiling an odd smile._

"_I just…for the last 8 months, I have been so AWARE of you. Your body, your smile, your laugh. I've always been intrigued by your intelligence, and I love to talk with you more than almost anyone I know. But the day that you hugged me—I felt a sea change that day, and I don't know how to get back to familiar shores." She shrugged, leaning against her desk. "I know that nothing can happen. It would end your career, to be with a subordinate officer, and especially a female one, and I've worked too hard to get to where I am to give it up when I'm not even sure that you like women."_

"_I do." Mechelle interjected._

"_That's good. At least I have that…oh, I just heard a comedienne say it the other day…that Gaydar. It might save me some eventual heart ache." She sniffled, and laughed._

"_Did you know that I've been offered a position in Santa Fe?" Mechelle asked quietly._

"_No. I..oh god, you must think I'm an idiot." Sharon blushed. _

"_Quite the opposite. I think you're exactly the sign I was looking for." She smiled._

"_I don't think I follow." _

"_When I got the offer, it was just a few days ago. And at first, I was overjoyed. It's a promotion, I'd be moving into a Commander position. But I was going to say no, because," she brushed her thumb over Sharon's cheek, "because I couldn't stand the thought of not having a reason to see you, even if it was just for work. And then I thought, maybe if I took it, I could tell you how I felt. I was pretty sure you felt it too. I wondered if, if I took the position, would you give us a chance? I didn't know what the right move would be, so I prayed for a sign," she laughed, continuing, "and here it is, I'd say. Clear as day." Mechelle leaned her shoulder against Sharon's._

"_So, we could…try?" Sharon asked, wanting to be sure she followed._

"_Yes. But I won't cheat. So you need to tell your husband. If you're serious. You have to be serious. This can't be an experiment. I'm past all that. I'm looking for a woman who knows what she wants." Mechelle cautioned._

"_I am. I do. I will." Sharon stuttered, staring at the Captain's lips. "But, can I just make sure?" She asked, leaning forward, and initiating another kiss. _

_And so it went. Sebastian asked her to stay, to try and work things out, but for the first time in 9 years, she had a compelling reason to say no. Her kids already knew Mechelle, so her eventual appearance at some dinners, and playground dates wasn't especially traumatic. After a year, they exchanged keys, and sometimes, on weekends when Sebastian had the kids, Mechelle would come over, and they would spend almost the entire 48 hours in bed. After 2 years, Sharon asked her to move in. And for another 3 years, it was bliss. Sharon felt complete. Her family felt complete. She got promoted to the rank of Captain. _

_And one night, she got off of work earlier than expected. Sebastian had the kids, and she knew Mechelle was at home. So she drove home, not noticing the strange car parked down the block. And she quietly opened the front door, pulling her heels off as she stepped in. She laid her knee length black trench coat on the entry table, and pulled off her linen pants, and blouse. She belted the trench coat over her panties, and crept up the steps, planning to ambush Mechelle in her home office. But the room was empty, when she pushed the door open. So she turned, and stepped into her bedroom, her hand gripping the belt of the coat, ready to pull it off with a flourish. Instead, it fell limply to her side, as she watched the love of her life moaning under another woman's touch._

_Sharon handled it with her trademark calm, splitting the property they'd accumulated over the last few years. She offered occasional visitation with the kids. She never once asked why._

The alarm buzzed her out of her reverie. As she reached over to smack it, she felt Brenda shifting in her arms, and then the warmth of a mouth around her nipple.

"What happened to showering?" She asked, smiling weakly.

"I'm motivating you to join me." Brenda answered, flipping the sheets off of her, and standing up.

"You have a tattoo!" Sharon exclaimed, watching the blonde woman walk towards the en suite.

"And you don't. But you do have 2 scars on your upper left arm. One looks like a small pox vaccine scar, and the other one looks like it has a story behind it. Come tell me in the shower. I want to hear all of your stories." Brenda flipped on the light in the bath, then turned back to Sharon with a grin. "Even the ones that don't have happy endings."

* * *

for those of you playing along at home: sharon got married shortly after high school. she's older than brenda, we know that. brenda was 40 in season 1, so she's ostensibly 47 now. i'm assuming sharon is 50. so, 21 years ago, she left her husband for another woman. her kids, at that time, were 5 and 3, making them 26 and 24, respectively. /math is hard, barbie!


	41. Chapter 41

Sharon stood near the foot of the bed, stuck in her own head. On the one hand, she'd seen Brenda naked, had her fingers inside Brenda's body, had her lips on parts generally covered by clothing. Still, she couldn't see herself just, using the bathroom with her. It seemed too familiar, somehow, despite the physical intimacy they'd achieved. She shrugged her blouse on, and walked across to the guest bath. Turning the light switch on, she smiled a little bit. The toothbrush she'd used the night of her attack was still there on the counter. As she finished up, she heard the rattling of water through the pipes, and Brenda's voice drifting across the hall, indecipherable, but teasing in tone. Sharon walked into the en suite, having dropped her blouse on the bench at the foot of Brenda's bed. She climbed into the shower, standing behind Brenda. The water was near-scalding, just the way Sharon liked it.

"Thank god you don't take tepid showers." She said, taking in the sizable space, and the overwhelming number of bath products. "Did you heist a bath and bodyworks?"

"Very funny," Brenda said, reaching for a bottle covered in purple flowers, "I just like variety. Also, my mama has a neighbor who sells Avon."

"I don't suppose you have any detangling conditioner in that collection?" Sharon asked hopefully.

"Ummm," Brenda looked around, setting the flowered bottle down, then reached for another bottle, with a shocking orange label. "This isn't detangling conditioner, but, it works on the same principle. It's citrus based, so you ought to love it." She popped the lid open, waving it under Sharon's nose.

"It's nice. That should do." Sharon agreed, scanning the bottles for something resembling plain soap. "Do you have anything other than bodywash?" She asked.

"Yes. Here's some Ivory bar soap, will that work?" Brenda held the bar loosely in her palm.

"Perfect. That's exactly perfect." Sharon grinned. Hot water and Ivory soap were the keystones of her morning at home. She held her hand out to take the bar, but Brenda smiled a slow, predatory smile. She stepped closer to Sharon, and circled an arm around her hips, trailing the bar of soap down Sharon's arm.

"Let me wash your back." She purred.

Brenda turned Sharon around, and painted broad stripes across her back with the soap. She slicked her hands down, squeezing the firm globes of Sharon's ass, before dropping to her knees, and sliding the soap up one leg, tracing muscle paths, and the blue veins that mapped the skin, and then down the other, fingers kneading thighs, and calves. She couldn't get enough of touching her. The lines of her Achilles tendon, the arch of her foot. Brenda thought maybe she'd rather be allowed to touch all the two-thousand parts of Sharon Raydor, than win the lottery, or hit it big in Vegas. She stood, pressing her body against Sharon's soapy back, and ran the bar across her sternum, then used her free hand to sweep the suds down, caressing her breasts, circling her finger over each nipple, before rubbing the soap on Sharon's stomach. She smoothed the bubbles across pale skin, dipping her finger into Sharon's navel, before setting the soap down, and sliding her hands down, over auburn curls, slipping one finger into slickened folds just briefly, then retreating. She used her hands to spread the soap up Sharon's ribcage, her armpits, the curve between her shoulder and neck. Her fingers dragged suds down well sculpted arms, the skin over her elbows as soft as velvet.

Sharon kept her eyes closed, overwhelmed by the sensation of Brenda's slippery hands sliding everywhere. She'd never been touched so extensively, so tenderly. She felt like clay in the hands of an artist, as Brenda kneaded her shoulders, rubbing out the tension as she rubbed in the soap. Sharon was slightly dizzy from the steam, and the heat between her legs. Brenda's breasts slid sensuously across the planes of her back, she could feel the damp rasp of curls pressing against the curve of her backside. It was too much. Sharon spun around, catching Brenda at the hips, and pulling her into a searing kiss. She pressed the younger woman against the cool tile, sliding her hands down Brenda's arms, capturing her wrists, and pinning them above her head. She held Brenda there, and then slid against her, letting their breasts press together, working her thigh between Brenda's legs, feeling a slickness unrelated to soap, and a heat hotter than the water that sluiced enticingly over their bodies. Brenda let her head fall back, arching her spine, aching for more contact. Sharon licked the long column of Brenda's neck, grazing her teeth over Brenda's earlobe, Brenda hummed in pleasure, as she felt Sharon press against her thigh, setting up a rocking motion that left them both gasping. Brenda dug her fingers into her palms, as their bodies slipped and slid together, and Sharon's lips found hers, her tongue stroking hotly inside Brenda's mouth. Every nerve ending in Sharon's body was at attention, and it seemed that Brenda wasn't too far behind. Sharon let her wrists go, and Brenda clung to her, as they moved in rhythm, moans echoing off of the tile, muted by the falling water. Brenda was close, so close, and the fire in her belly was spiraling out to her thighs, and up her spine.

"I'm so..almost.." She whimpered, burying her face into the hollow of Sharon's shoulder as she rocked her hips, sliding wetly along Sharon's thigh.

"Me too," Sharon gasped, as the blonde woman arched against her, full breasts slipping against Sharon's nipples, starting a chain reaction, "Oh. Come with me." She amended, as her body started to tremble.

"I…ah. I am." Brenda husked, biting the skin at the curve of Sharon's shoulder, needing an anchor for the explosion of sensation rocking through her.

Brenda smiled a lazy smile, and pushed some damp hair out of Sharon's face.

"You could have a future career as my own personal loofah." Sharon remarked, as her legs stopped quivering.

"It's a tempting prospect. How's the pay?" Brenda grinned, reaching for the hand-held shower head. "Here, turn around, and tip your head back."

She sprayed water over Sharon's dark tresses, then replaced the nozzle. She reached for the citrus shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into her palms, and began massaging Sharon's scalp, working the shampoo through her hair, gently removing tangles with her fingers. She rinsed, and Sharon sighed happily.

"Do you do one wash, or do you lather, rinse, repeat?" Brenda asked, watching as droplets of water clung to Sharon's jaw, then trailed in rivulets down her neck. She heard Sharon speak, but missed her actual words, focusing on the path of the water, and planning to trace it with her tongue. "Sorry, what?" She asked sheepishly.

"I lather, rinse, and repeat." Sharon arched a brow, wondering where the blonde woman had drifted off to, just then.

"Okay. Here we go." She rubbed more shampoo into the dark tresses curling around her fingers, and then rinsed them clean.

"Now, the conditioner." Brenda chirped. She finger-combed the tangles as she applied the creamy substance, taking care not to pull at individual strands. Finishing, she reached up for the shower head, and rinsed Sharon's hair one last time. Then, hanging the head back up, she slid her hand around, cupping the back of Sharon's neck. She gave her a slow, gentle kiss, then flicked the curtain back, gesturing to a fluffy green towel.

"That one's yours. I'm just going to wash my hair, and then we can skee-daddle downstairs for coffee."

"So, you get to wash me, but I don't get to wash you?"

"Well, as another famous Southern girl once said, 'Tomorrow is anotha day." So, I thought we'd try being close to on time." Brenda replied.

Sharon nodded, and stepped out onto the bathmat. Brenda made quick work of her hair, and as Sharon combed her hair, the scent of freesias filled the air.

"Freesia? I thought you used Magnolia shampoo?"

"Mmm. No. That's my lotion, the magnolia scented stuff."

"Bees must love you." Sharon quipped.

"They do, but it's because I'm so sweet, not because of my smell goods." Brenda laughed, rinsing her hair for the last time, and turning off the faucet.

As they dressed, Brenda watched while Sharon pulled on a pair of wine red panties, and matching bra, before donning a patterned skirt, and simple black shell top. A blazer with crisp creases finished the ensemble, and as Sharon slid her feet into the dark pumps, Brenda realized her mouth had gone completely dry.

"Everything you do is sexy. It's all so determined, and focused. How did I notice that before?" She wondered aloud.

"You were too busy planning to thwart me." Sharon laughed, blushing at the compliment.

"True. That's true." Brenda pulled on the ecru top that paired nicely with the brown skirt, and then shoved her feet into a pair of brown sling backs.

"I believe we have a date with Mr. Coffee." She said, grabbing her phone from the charging dock, and heading for the stairs.

"Indeed. I hope you have good coffee."

"Well, you'd know that, if you hadn't run out of here like a cat with her tail on fire, last time." Brenda said, a little more sharply than she'd intended.

Sharon paused, then nodded. She knew there wasn't much she could say to remedy that, but Brenda's tone gave a small insight into how badly she'd hurt the younger woman. She vowed to work on fixing it so that didn't happen again.


	42. Chapter 42

Brenda walked in to the LAPD building with a chuckle still on her lips from the look on Sharon's face when she'd peeled through the yellow light, leaving the dark haired woman stuck at a notoriously long intersection. Her smile faded, as she saw Commander Taylor striding towards her, his eyebrows raised in anticipation.

"Good mornin' Commander," Brenda chirped brightly, pressing the button for the elevator.

"Morning, Chief. I just thought you should know that since the funeral for the Paramedics has been scheduled for Monday, the announcement for Chief is going to be delayed a little longer. Also," He continued, following her onto the elevator, "Chief Pope has Delk in his office waiting for you." He cleared his throat twice, nervously.

"Yes, Commander, what is it?" Brenda stepped off the elevator, making her way towards Major Crimes, sparing a glance back at the obsequious man.

"Uh, well. It's just that…Delk will probably have his own ideas when it comes to investigating, and you need to keep that in mind." He tugged at his tie, a fiery red that clashed terribly with his pink shirt.

Brenda nodded, scoffing. "You want me to play nicely with _Tommy_ Delk, in case he becomes chief of police," Brenda said, her voice lingering cloyingly over the juvenile moniker.

"All I'm saying, is that in addition to your two victims, there are several _living_ people, still counting on you." Taylor's voice mocked her emphasis.

"Well. Thank you for the vote of confidence, Commander," Brenda said, stopping outside of Pope's office. "Have a good mornin' now."

"You too, Chief." Taylor sounded defeated, as he turned and walked away.

Knocking, she heard Will invite her in, and pushed open the door.

"Good morning. Chief Johnson, I believe you've met." Pope walked around to stand behind his desk.

"Tommy Delk" The diminutive man held out a hand, smiling slightly. "Good to see you again."

"And you," She replied, shaking his hand briefly, noting his weak grip. She sat down in the chair nearest the door, settling her purse in her lap. "Let's get started, shall we?"

The two men followed her lead, taking their seats, and Pope gestured for Delk to begin. He told the story of a two year old bombing, finishing with the fact that there was no evidence to be found at the scene, but there was footage of the suspect buying two prepaid cellphones.

"I'd very much like to see that footage." Brenda replied, looking between Delk and Pope.

And as Delk responded, Brenda could feel an impressive rage beginning to coil within. The FBI was giving her three hours? Before they took over? Because this little man, this insipid little man who referred to himself with a child's name, didn't want to 'break trust' with the FBI. She snorted internally, the dark humor there not escaping her. She hadn't heard from Fritz since the day he'd surprised her at the station, and she supposed that's how it went, when things were done, and there were no kids. She tuned back into the conversation at hand, digging her nails into her palms for patience.

"…So I want you two to work together. Brenda, you will examine the FBI materials with Chief Delk present, and then, in three hours, this is the FBI's ball game. Is that clear?" Pope cast his clear blue gaze on Brenda, only the vein beneath his eye belying his frustration.

"Yes sir." Brenda replied, standing, and walking out of the office. She made sure to close the door with a little more enthusiasm than normal, just in case they were too dense to pick up the annoyance she was laying down.

She threw herself into the supple leather chair at her own desk, and pressed her hands to her head, pulling her hair tight against her scalp in frustration. She reached for her candy drawer, but paused with her hand in mid-air, then and spun her chair around, and picked up the phone instead.

"FID, Raydor" Sharon purred, smiling into the handset.

"I swear on Twizzlers, you're going to be investigating me before the day is out. Delk is the most infuriatin' man on the planet. Did you know he ratted me out to the FBI? I have a few hours with the evidence, before they swoop in and screw this case up as well. Honestly. They've had 2 years, and I've gotten more in 24 hours. And they want to just take it. Well. They have another think coming, if they think I'm just going to roll over for the big bad G-men. THOSE days are over, thank the lord." Brenda finally paused for a breath.

"Hi, Sharon. It's nice to hear your voice. Oh thanks, Brenda, I'm thrilled to hear from you as well. How's your day going so far?" Sharon teased gently

"Sorry. Hi. I am glad to hear your voice. You have a really, a nice voice." Brenda meant sexy, but she found herself blushing at the prospect of actually telling Sharon that.

"Thank you. Listen, I'm in the middle of a case with a beat cop in Hollywood div, but you said you have a few hours with the FBI evidence, right? You've managed to parlay deadlines like that into whole days when dealing with my division, so surely you can come up with a way to get the time you need, and figure this all out. I have faith in you." Sharon twirled the phone cord around her finger, glancing out at her squad.

"I…that means a lot." Brenda felt an odd tightness in her voice, and cleared her throat. "It's probably going to be another late one for me. Especially if I'm playing fast and loose with the FBI."

"I understand. Call me when you're done for the evening, and we'll figure things out from there." Sharon gently replaced the phone in the cradle on her desk, before spinning her chair to face the back wall of her office, and letting a wide grin dance over her face.

Xxx

Brenda tapped her fingers on the photos from the bombing. Turning to Delk, she flipped over the map on the desk between them.

"I think we're lookin' at this all wrong. Look, when you said a 'nearby fire station' responded, you didn't mention that it was right across the street from the bomb."

"Well, yes. That's why it was extinguished so quickly." Delk spoke in evenly modulated tones.

"But, why set a bomb off right across the street from a fire station? It doesn't make sense, especially if we're assuming that Kevin Masen is smart enough to build a bomb from untraceable parts."

"Maybe he didn't notice it."

"I think he notices everything. Look, the bomb went off at 6:33am. All LAFD stations change shift at 6:30. Ostensibly, two full crews could've responded to that blaze…" Brenda trailed off, staring at the map.

"So you think he was aiming at the fire station, not the IRS."

"And I think the first bomb was bait. I think he was trying to kill as many fire fighters as possible."

"But then why go AWOL for two years, and resurface to only kill two paramedics?"

"Maybe he's recreating the first scenario. Maybe the first two deaths are the smaller bomb. The bait. We just have to figure out what the big bomb is."

Just then the door opened, and three FBI Agents stepped in. Brenda was eager to share her theory, but Delk interrupted, handing off the files as though she wasn't even there. Her hands clenched into fists in the pockets of her blazers, as she sat down heavily. The men stacked the boxes on to a hand truck, and wheeled them away.

"I thought we were on the same page?" She seethed, once the door closed behind them.

"Look, even if you're right, the FBI has been on this case for two years, pursuing it as a failed IRS bombing. They'd be too embarrassed to admit they were on the wrong track. Now, they can go do what they do best, and find the missing fugitive. You and I can use the combined skills of our respective divisions to see if this crazy theory of yours has any bite." Delk smiled with his lips closed.

"So, you don't want to tell the FBI about the possible targeting of fire fighters?" Brenda asked slowly, trying to make sure she wasn't jumping the gun in trusting the enigmatic man.

"It's an untested hypothesis. We don't want to confuse them, or send them on a wild goose chase," he replied, watching the men maneuver the dolly down the hall.

"Ah. No. We don't want that." Brenda let a slow smile play on her lips, as she glanced at the man out of the corner of her eye. There might be hope yet for this case.


	43. Chapter 43

Later that morning, Brenda sat across the desk from Provenza, trying to find a clear spot to rest her elbows among all the paperwork strewn across the surface.

"All I'm saying, is we have to consider the possibility that Masen might go back underground. Tao has been staring at that cell phone grid since we caught the case. If someone had been given this assignment after the bombing, they'd have been sitting there for two years." Provenza leaned back in his chair, plucking at lint on his cuff.

Sanchez interrupted Brenda's train of thought by opening the door, and informing her that the psychiatrist who'd done Masen's last eval was in an interview room. She gave a distracted smile to Provenza, and stood up, then paused as Sanchez stepped aside, revealing Delk.

"Mind if I join you?" He asked, cordially.

"Of course," Brenda sighed, grabbing the case notes. "Right this way."

They took their seats across from the psychiatrist, and Brenda slid her glasses up on to her nose, before beginning the interview. The more the doctor spoke, the tighter the knot in Brenda's stomach grew. Narcissistic Personality Disorder sound like a fancy way of saying 'sociopath', to her, but she figured the doctor must know his stuff. She felt her heart stutter as the doctor finished his assessment with the chilling statement, "He's convinced the system has been stacked against him, because he's white. He thinks that he's the top of the food chain. Best of the best. So, whatever you're thinking Masen might do? Think bigger."

Tao snagged her by the arm as she left the interview room, his glasses sitting crookedly on his face as he gestured to the paper in his hand.

"I just did an internet search, and as it turns out, the day of the bombing? Anniversary of the day the Affirmative Action bill was passed. " He smiled wanly.

"So Mr. Masen is a man with a gripe." Delk murmured, as Sanchez approached their tiny huddle.

"Chief, we got a hit on the casings." He held the folder aloft, coming to stand next to Tao. "14 years ago, Russell Owens took a shot at an intruder with his .45."

"And where's Mr. Owens now?" Brenda asked, peering at the ballistics report.

"Well, he was 71 years old then, Chief. We don't even know if he's still alive." Sanchez replied.

"If Owens collects social security," Flynn interrupted, "we could track where his checks are being delivered."

"Okay. Let's do that." Brenda said, turning back towards her office. She spotted Delk with a tiny blue phone up to his ear. "Excuse me, but who are you calling?"

"We have to let the FBI know about the casings." He answered stiffly.

"Ohh, the FBI is sleeping. And we haven't verified this. And you said yourself you didn't want to send them on a wild goose chase." She smiled sweetly.

Delk nodded, snapping the phone closed, then turned sharply, and headed back towards her office. Brenda glared at his back, then went in the opposite direction, hoping the vending area would be vacant. She really, really needed a Reese's Cup. As she slid the quarters into the machine, she pondered the details she'd learned about Masen. He was convinced that he'd been passed over due to his race, rather than his mental instability. That instability made him prone to inappropriate responses, especially to anger. His first attempt at revenge had been a huge bombing. So what was he up to now, she wondered, as she bit into the candy, letting it melt on her tongue, before chewing. What was the point of killing the paramedics? If that was the smaller detonation…what was the big one going to be, and how did it all tie in? She leaned against the cool glass with her eyes closed, as she finished the candy, and delicately licked the remaining chocolate from the tips.

"You should be careful who sees you doing that. It might fall under sexual harassment, and then I'd have to investigate you." Sharon grinned, leaning against the doorway.

Brenda's eyes flew open, as the warmth of Sharon's voice washed over her.

"Oh! I didn't…sexual harassment? Really?" Brenda traced her lip with her index finger, then teased it with her tongue, looking at Sharon through her lashes.

Sharon felt the tension coil just behind her navel, and she stalked closer to the younger woman, eyes narrowing.

"Mmm. I'd say so. Inappropriate sexual advances towards a co-worker. It's in section 43.b of Chapter Twel—" Sharon found herself silenced by a swift, but bruisingly sensual kiss, her hands automatically rising to hold onto Brenda's arms.

"Do you have the whole damn Code Book memorized?" Brenda said, stepping back from her impulsive embrace, as she glanced around to make sure they were still alone.

"It's my job to know. So yes, I do. All 6,572 rules that each member of the LAPD is to abide by. I've also memorized all 2,189 recommendations from the Civilian Review Board, and the Police Accountability Commission. And I know my times tables, up to 100." Sharon replied, slightly dazed from the taste of Brenda and chocolate and peanut butter on her tongue.

"I think my suspect is a white supremacist." Brenda mused, as she walked towards the Kitchenette. "He seems to think the LAFD passed on him because of Affirmative Action quotas."

"Well, as ridiculous as we know that is, if that's what he feels, then he's even more dangerous. He'll see all members of law enforcement as complicit in his rejection." Sharon fell into step beside Brenda.

"We might have a lead. I'm hoping my team gets him before anything else happens. He thinks he doesn't make mistakes, and so I'm hoping his ego lets him stay put until we can get there." Brenda reached for a mug, and poured some coffee into it. "You want a cup?" She asked, gesturing with the pot.

"No, thank you. I have water at my desk. I came looking for you to let you know that, because of the funeral for the fire fighters…"

"The announcement for Chief will be delayed. I know. Taylor accosted me this morning first thing. But it's much more pleasant, coming from you." Brenda smiled, and bumped Sharon's hip with hers.

"Did you just _hip check_ Captain Raydor?" Will's nasal voice grated over Brenda's ears.

"Did I what?" She asked, turning to scowl at the Chief.

"You heard me. Look, I can put up with a lot from you. I DO put up with a lot from you. But you can't just do things like that." He sputtered, looking apologetically at Sharon.

"Chief, it's fine. Chief Johnson and I have come to an understanding, thanks to recent events. Right, Chief?" Sharon grinned, and shoved her hip back into Brenda's, slightly more enthusiastically.

Brenda's posture faltered, before she caught herself, and then she nodded. "Right. An understanding. That's true."

"Well. Okay then." Will furrowed his already oft-lined brow. "Uh, Captain. Have you given any more thought to what I asked you, the other week?"

Brenda leveled her gaze at Will, watching the slight pink tinge creeping over his cheeks, and travelling to his ears. That thing, was probably coffee. She shifted her coffee from one hand to the other, and settled her free hand on her side holster.

Sharon watched Brenda out of the corner of her eye, and stifled a chuckle when she watched those torturous fingers land on the worn snap.

"We'll have to discuss that some other time," She said, plucking the coffee cup from Brenda's hand, and walking towards the door. "I was just getting a coffee before I head back down to Hollywood." She smiled, then turned and caught Brenda's eye, nodding once. "Chief Johnson, Chief Pope, if you'll excuse me…"

Brenda watched her go, the swing in her hips so rhythmic, Brenda was pretty sure you could compose music to it. She sighed heavily, then turned around, fetching another mug, and filling it.

"I don't know what you're up to, Brenda, but I.A. is not a department we want to tangle with." Will reached over her head, grabbing a mug for himself. "Just, keep in mind that you're not the only one on this Squad, okay?"

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Okay, Will. That's fine." She chirped, pouring vanilla creamer into her cup, before turning to leave. "We just realized maybe we had more in common than we thought, both heading up divisions, and being in the minority, gender-wise. We're not tangling with I.A." She blushed a bit, as she thought of just how tangled up they'd been last night.

Just then, her phone rang, and she was saved any further conversation about Sharon, as Flynn informed her that Russell Owens had been found dead in his apartment. She took a swallow of the coffee, cringing, as she realized she'd forgotten the sugar.

"And you'll never guess who his attendant was." Flynn finished, pausing dramatically.

"Kevin Masen." Brenda answered, stirring the 4 teaspoons of sugar into the cup as quietly as possible.

"Kevin Masen, is right." Flynn confirmed. "He was here last night, according to the receptionist."

"Did you find him yet? Did you make an arrest?" She asked, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder as she walked back to her desk, sitting down across from Delk.

"No, not yet. But we have a recent photo ID of him—oh, hold on a sec, Chief." There was some rustling, and then Provenza came on the line.

"Chief, we found a gun, a Colt .45, pretty sure it's the one used in the shooting."

She could hear Tao in the background, mumbling, and then the beep as Provenza put the phone on speaker, rather than translate for Tao.

"I found an anti-cholinergic. It's a bladder control med, that, when used in high doses, causes depressed respiration, dilated pupils, and increased heart rate." Tao fairly shouted at the phone, causing Brenda to cringe, holding it away from her ear a bit.

"So all the symptoms our mystery patient had." Brenda muttered. Delk looked up, questioningly.

"Right, and also, there are some oxygen tanks missing." Tao continued.

"Well wait, now. Is Kevin Masen there, or not?" She interrupted.

"Chief?" Gabriel took over the phone. "Kevin Masen, AKA Bob Gill, clocked out of work about 2 hours before we got here. But he also has access to a wheel-chair van, that's currently missing."

"All right, let's get everyone looking for that van. Run the plates, circulate his picture, I want him found."

"Yeah, Chief? The nurses want to know when we'll be done with this guy's body. Guess they're already thinking about the funeral." Sanchez bellowed into the phone.

"The funeral…" She looked up at Delk, her face going pale. "The memorial for the paramedics…when is it?"

"In about 4 hours, or so." He replied, looking concerned.

"That's it. That's the bigger event. He's going to bomb the memorial." Her voice was strained, hushed.

Delk looked nauseated. She barked a series of orders into her phone, giving her team explicit instructions, then snapped the phone shut, and looked across the desk, meeting eyes as anguished as her own.

"We can't let this happen."


	44. Chapter 44

Brenda stood in the hastily built command tent, fuming. It was as though she was the only one who could see how terribly this could end. They still hadn't found Masen, or the van, or the bomb, and there were so many people here, so many of her colleagues. She tried again.

"Commander, there are thousands of people here. Firemen, paramedics, police officers..police..excuse me for one minute, please." She fumbled in her bag, snagging her phone. She cursed her clumsy fingers, as she pecked out a slow text.

_Don't come to the memorial. long story. –b_

"Sorry, about that. You say we can defend ourselves, but I think we're missing something. Masen wiped down the ambulance, even though he knew back up was seconds away." She continued, a desperate note in her voice.

"Well, we all know how methodical Masen is." Taylor replied.

"Was, Commander. How methodical he was. This morning, he left everything out. He's on a suicide mission, and he doesn't care what we find." She barely refrained from stomping her foot. Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down, her heart leaping into her throat as she read the terse reply.

_Already here. ~s_

"Shoot. Shoot. Okay. Look, gentlemen, the church doesn't even have a metal detector! How can you say we've got this covered?"

"We couldn't use a metal detector anyway, not with all the armed cops here." Taylor fairly sneered.

"Chief Johnson, the memorial begins in 40 minutes. If you really want to call this off, it's now or never." Delk interrupted.

Brenda looked at him, then back down at her phone. She knew Sharon wouldn't leave, not after her cryptic text. Of course, it wasn't just Sharon. So many of her colleagues, people she might even qualify as friends, were here, in what might well be ground zero in an hour. She ran her hand through her hair, and closed her eyes. How was he going to do it? Taylor was right, they did have a good perimeter set. She opened her eyes as a hand closed around her elbow.

"Can I have a moment?" Will Pope asked, steering her away from the crowd. "If you cancel this memorial, and no bomb is found, you will embarrass the department, and you will never be Chief." He said, his jaw tight with worry.

"I'll risk it." She replied.

He shook his head, and took a step back, an odd flicker passing over his face.

"No." He murmured, then raised his voice. "Everyone, I'm cancelling this memorial until further notice. My decision."

Brenda looked at him, surprise painting her features. He shrugged, and gave her a rueful grin.

"You still have a shot at being Chief. Let's not screw that up, okay?" He clapped her on the back, and walked back over to Taylor and Delk.

Brenda stood there for a moment, then flipped her phone open. She sent up a silent prayer, then let her fingers fly.

_Memorial cancelled. Go home. Please? I need to know you are safe. –b_

She waited, tensely.

_You think your white supremacist is going to do something bad here, don't you? ~s_

_Yes. And I can't focus on that, because I know you're in the crowd. –b_

_How can I help? ~s_

_Go. Home. –b_

_No. I'll be over to the command tent as soon as I can get there. ~s_

Brenda groaned, and threw her phone back into her bag. Honestly. That woman! This had nothing to do with I.A. This had nothing to do with FID. Why couldn't she just go home, and let Brenda handle things? She paced a little, then walked over to glare at the map of the perimeter they'd arranged. Provenza walked over to her, another cell phone held out like an offering.

"Flynn for you. He's found something you need to know about."

"Lieutenant Flynn, what've you got?" She asked, hopeful that they'd found the bomb.

"Well, you can nix the idea of him using the van as the bomb. We found it, and it's empty. There's an envel—" His voice went garbled, and Brenda pressed the phone closer to her ear.

"Lieutenant! You're breaking up. Stay put, we'll be right there." She folded the phone closed, and handed it back to Provenza.

"Let's go."

Parking haphazardly near the van, Brenda leapt out of the car, and stood by Flynn. He handed her a small disc, and she donned her glasses, reading the title out loud.

"Beyond Wrath and Tears…oh my." She frowned, looking in the van.

She fished out her phone again, instructing the beats to detain anyone in a wheelchair. The call waiting blared, and she clicked over, hearing Tao's excited voice crackling through the line.

"Quickly, Lieutenant, I'm 5 floors underground, and I could lose you at any time."

"I think he was using the oxybutynin as protection while he was maki—" The line went garbled, and Brenda groaned in frustration.

"You're breaking up. What now?" She asked.

"The tanks are filled with serein. Nerve gas. The Nazi's used it." He spoke loudly, hoping she could hear him. He could feel Provenza hovering over his shoulder. "Do I need to say anything more? A tiny amount, in an enclosed space—" The line clicked. "Chief?" He looked down at the phone, as it flashed 'call ended'.

He looked up at Provenza, and both of them bolted for the elevators.

Brenda scowled at the phone, then pressed it against her ear, walking away from the van.

"Lieutenant, I can't hear you! Lieuten.." She turned, and saw a mechanized wheel chair heading up the ramp. She felt a little like she was moving in slow motion as she lowered the phone from her ear, putting it into her bag. She wrapped her hand around her gun. In her periphery, she could see Gabriel walking towards her. Her eyes locked with the man in the wheelchair, and she felt as though she'd made eye contact with a ghost. Her spine went cold, and she gripped the butt of her gun more tightly. Gabriel stepped slightly in front of her, and Masen spooked, Brenda could see it in those cold eyes. He snatched the oxygen tubing from in front of his nose, and jumped up, grabbing one of the oxygen cannisters as he ran. Gabriel bolted after him, and Brenda followed, whipping out her gun as she ran. Gabriel grabbed him by the collar, and the two of them toppled to the ground, but Masen sprang back up, hand held out like a weapon. Gabriel stood more slowly, his hands out in front of him, placating, beseeching.

"Stay back!" Masen hissed, shifting to get a better hold on the oxygen tank with his free hand.

"He's got a bomb, Chief." Gabriel said, his voice quiet.

Masen grinned, an empty, feral grin, that showed all of his teeth. "Do you know what a dead man switch is? If I let go of this button, we ALL die!"

Brenda's mind was flying. There had been thousands of people at the memorial. It was likely that many of them were parked in this building. She knew that the devastation would be profound, even if the bomb was smaller this time. What had the psychiatrist said…that Masen thought he was better than everyone. Maybe she could use that.

"Masen! Kevin Masen?" She asked, still holding her gun on him.

"You know who I am?" His eyes met hers again, and she felt her stomach ice over.

"Of course I do!" She simpered, smiling weakly. "You're the fugitive who's outsmarted the FBI and god knows who else out there over the last two years! Right now, you're the most wanted man in the world." God help her, she actually batted her lashes.

"I've seen you on TV." His posture straightened. "You're up to be the next Chief of Police!" He smiled a bit, stepping closer.

Brenda thought quickly. "I've been offered the job, actually. So here we are, the next chief of the country's largest police force, face to face with America's leadin' dissident."

He smirked. "The NYPD is America's largest police force. Let's keep our egos in check, shall we?"

Over his shoulder, Brenda could see a uniform draw his gun and dart forward. Her hands went clammy, and she yelled.

"No! No no no! Don't shoot! Don't shoot. I want him alive." To her ears, her voice sounded much higher than normal, what she could hear of herself over the blood thundering through her skull.

He had turned to the uniform, but at her words, Masen swiveled his head around to face her, his eyes hooded now, suspicious.

"Why do you want me alive?"

"Law enforcement has so much to learn from a mind like yours." She lowered her gun arm, reaching into her purse with her free hand, pulling out the DVD. "And judgin' from this," She held it up like an offering, and watched his face split into that eerie grin again.

"You watched my manifesto?" He sounded as proud as a new father.

This was a hail mary move, and Brenda knew it, but she forged ahead, hoping that she wasn't about to get the near entirety of her squad, not to mention all the other people in the parking structure, blown to kingdom come. She answered him.

"I did."

"What part did you like the most?" His eyes narrowed, as though he could smell her lie. "Specifically."

"The articulate way you described how the events of September 24th affect our every day lives. And I agree entirely about how badly the quota system has undermined our values," She swallowed hard, hoping Gabriel would understand. "But what I don't get, what I don't understand, is why you felt the need to kill those paramedics?"

"Well, if you had been PAYING ATTENTION," he scowled, "you would've heard when I said they were part of a corrupt system."

Brenda nodded, then tilted her head to the side, like a thought had just occurred to her.

"Right. But what about Russell Owens? He was an invalid."

"He threatened my mission."

"And all those people at the memorial? Is it really necessary to kill them?"

"Well, I'm sorry if it seems so brutal," and to her surprise, he did sound apologetic, until he continued, "but I'm holding our society's hand to the stove. Sometimes, violence is the only way to teach people how wrong they are." His eyes shifted, and Brenda turned to follow his line of sight. Sanchez had lowered his gun, and was running back towards the van.

"What, you don't think I see you running?" Masen screeched, outraged. "There goes another one of your cowardly Hispanic quota hires." He rolled his eyes.

"It's okay, don't worry about him." Brenda spoke quietly, hoping to calm him.

"Just for the record," Masen cut his eyes at Gabriel, before focusing back on Brenda. "I am not racist. The SYSTEM is racist."

"A system I will change as Chief!" Brenda exclaimed.

"Are you just saying that to save yourself?" He asked, sneering. "Because you're expendable."

Gabriel stepped closer to Masen, holstering his gun.

"You know what? Why don't you just let them go. You can hold on to me. Okay?" He said, moving closer still.

Brenda felt her throat constrict. He couldn't…not David. No. She held up the disc again, and spoke quickly.

"What about your manifesto? If you kill us, you destroy your manifesto. On the other hand, if you let these men deactivate your bomb, not only will your powerful speech survive, but you'll be the one givin' it!" She gave what she hoped was a winning smile, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You've already accomplished your mission. People are listenin' to you now. Journalists will be begging for interviews, you'll be studied in history classes, and…" she faltered, reaching for the carrot that might work. "And the quota system will change. I will end it." She finished, hoping that would do it.

"Are you really going to be the next Chief of Police?" He asked, warily.

"Yes I am." She spoke with a confidence she did not feel.

"And you're telling me, that you're going to be against quotas." He smirked.

Brenda started to reply, but Gabriel flashed in front of her, closing his hands over Masen's, forcing the switch to stay pressed. Brenda raised her gun, noting Sanchez one level up. She smiled inwardly, even as she aimed for Masen's head. So much for the 'cowardly' Hispanic. The irony wasn't lost on her, as she cocked her hammer, that it was going to be a black man, a Latino man, and a woman who took Masen down. Gabriel shifted his body, and Brenda had a clear shot. She pulled the trigger, and sent up a swift prayer that they'd stay put until the bullet did its job on the right man.

She watched as both men fell to the ground, Gabriel's eyes wide and slightly wild, blood spattered across his face. He fell on top of Masen, still holding the switch. He could smell the coppery, meaty scent of blood and brains, and his stomach heaved. He could hear the metal oxygen tank rolling away, the ragged sound of Flynn and Brenda breathing, the staccato footsteps of Sanchez racing back down to their level. Each sound was amplified, it seemed, and he was having a hard time focusing.

"Can someone give me a hand here, please?" He finally called out.

Brenda glanced down at him, then back up at the rolling tank. Tao stepped out from behind a pylon, and stopped it's momentum with his shoe. He stared down at it, then looked back up at Brenda, a horrified expression on his face.

"Holy CRAP!" He exclaimed.

Flynn, still breathing hard, stared at Brenda as he squatted near Masen's head, wrapping his hands around Gabriel's.

"What did you do?"

"He's right," She answered, staring down at Masen's sightless eyes. "Sometimes violence is the only way to teach people how wrong they are."

"Amen." Gabriel let his head drop back to the pavement.

"Yeah, but on the day before they announce who's going to be Chief of Police?" Flynn powered through with his thought. "You should've let me take the shot."

Brenda was saved from having to answer as Tao approached, holding the oxygen tank full of nerve gas as gingerly as possible.

"Can we get a bomb tech here?" He hollered.

Brenda glanced down at David. "Or two!" She amended.

"Or three! Or as many as you want to bring!" Gabriel chimed in, a slightly hysterical giggle escaping his lips.

Brenda stood silently, as the medics and the bomb squad arrived. She didn't notice Pope and Delk hovering at the periphery. She'd just shot a man. A dangerous man. A bad man. A man with vile thoughts, and psychopathic tendencies, but she had ended his life. The air was cool on her bare arms, but the goose bumps that blossomed didn't register. In fact, Brenda wasn't aware of anything, until a swift, sure, click-clack pattern of footfalls permeated the haze. She looked up, to see Sharon, in her Blues, power-walking towards her.

Their eyes locked, and Brenda was surprised to realize she was shivering. The fire in Sharon's gaze was warming though, and Brenda started to come back to herself. She took a few steps towards the dark haired woman, and then noticed Pope off to the side. She thought about pretending everything was okay. She thought about just letting Sharon be Captain Raydor, here to investigate an OIS. Instead, she wrapped her arms around the woman and sobbed.


	45. Chapter 45

Sharon was oblivious to the stares and whispers, as she held the younger woman tightly in her arms. Leaning her head down, she whispered into Brenda's ear.

"Come on. Let's let the CS people process this, and get you out of here for now." She kept an arm around Brenda's shaking shoulders, as she steered her towards the elevators.

Gabriel watched the scene unfold from his ground-level vantage point, and it was only the imminent threat of death that prevented him from throwing his hands in the air and cheering, as the two women walked out. He craned his neck, taking in the expressions on the faces of his coworkers. Pope looked flummoxed, his head tilted to the side, as if perhaps he was having a hard time hearing something. Delk's jaw was tight, his eyes narrow as he followed their exit with his gaze, and Gabriel felt the beginnings of a knot of concern bloom in his gut. Flynn didn't appear to have noticed, his focus on their clasped hands was laser-like. Tao was equally preoccupied, still holding the canister full of nerve gas. Provenza was leaned against a far wall, Sanchez next to him. Both men were inscrutable, but Gabriel was pretty sure they were aware of more than they were letting on. He breathed a sigh of relief. So far, only Delk looked to be a problem. He just hoped that the Mayor saw the political currency in appointing a hero, and that Brenda accepted the job. If Delk became their boss, he foresaw things getting very, very complicated.

Brenda kept her focus on the ground, woodenly putting one foot in front of the other. She was grateful for Sharon, for the warmth and the solid presence of her body. For the silence that didn't feel oppressive, or resentful. Her mouth was so dry, and she wondered if she'd be able to pry her tongue from the roof of her mouth to say anything, not that she knew what to say. Her bag hung heavy on her shoulder, and as she walked, she could hear the plastic clank of the manifesto disc against the butt of her gun. She knew she should turn around, and give it to the CS team. She knew that, in all likelihood, if Sharon knew she had it, she'd take it back for her. But the thought of that lunatic on every news station, his hateful rhetoric the subject of analysis, like it had merit…her stomach flipped at the idea. No, she thought. Best to take it home, then. She was dimly aware of Sharon herding her into the dark sedan, but once the door was closed, the contact between them broken, she began to shiver again. She pressed her knuckles into her eyes, hoping to drive away the ever-looping visual of the dark wound blooming on Masen's temple, the violent red spray across Gabriel's surprised face, the rapidly widening pool of blood beneath their bodies.

Sharon slid into the driver's seat, and pulled Brenda close, pressing her lips to the blond woman's slightly clammy forehead. She ran her hands down Brenda's back, feeling the reassuring expansion and contraction of the ribs, the proof that they were both alive, and mostly okay.

"You okay if I drive?" She whispered, her cheek resting on Brenda's tousled hair.

"Yeah. I just need…can we go…I don't want to be alone tonight, Sharon. If that's all right with you." Brenda knew she sounded weak, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"I wasn't planning on letting you out of my sight." Sharon replied softly, tilting Brenda's chin up, laying a gentle kiss on her lips.

"They say it gets easier. But it doesn't. It gets worse. Because you start to know what to expect," Brenda leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes as Sharon eased the car into traffic. "You know that if it's a head shot, the crime scene will smell sort of like raw hamburger and gun powder. You can predict the way a body will fall as it dies. You get accustomed to causing death, in a way. I'm supposed to solve murders, not commit them. This is number four, for me. Have you ever killed anyone?" She asked, plaintively.

Sharon reached over, and grasped Brenda's hand tightly, lacing their fingers together.

"I was in the Army, Brenda. And then I was a police officer. We've all had to make that terrible split second decision. And you're right. It doesn't get easier. But you can't second guess yourself. That man was poised to kill thousands of people. Not only that, but he was going to do it the same way the Nazi's did. You saved all of them. You, and your team. Keep that in mind as well." She answered, squeezing Brenda's hand gently.

"He thought he was doing the right thing, too. Who's to say I'm not as crazy as he was?" Brenda whispered roughly.

"Behavioral Sciences." Sharon replied lightly, hoping to curb the spiral into despair that Brenda seemed to be on. It worked, and Brenda giggled.

"That hasn't gone so well for me before. I got declared unfit, because I wasn't upset about it. Guess that won't be a problem this time." Here, she snorted derisively. "I think I'm getting soft in my old age, Cap'n."

Sharon cut her eyes at Brenda, and chose to ignore the easy comeback, instead bringing their joined hands up, and kissing Brenda's knuckles, before untangling their fingers so she could shift the vehicle into park. They got out of the car, and Brenda blinked, realizing they were outside of her home. She started up the walk, fumbling for her keys. The third time she tried to fit the key into the lock, Sharon's hands closed over hers.

"Let me." She murmured, twisting the key, and pushing the door open.

"Thanks. Thank you…for being here. I don't really…this is a terrible third date, I think." Brenda smiled weakly.

Sharon walked into the entry hall, and snapped on the lamp on the table, dropping the keys in the dish. Brenda watched as the dark haired woman moved comfortably through her house, arching a brow as Sharon walked into the kitchen, flipping on that light as well. She heard glassware tinkling, and then Sharon poked her head through the doorway.

"Are you going to stand there? Or are you going to come into your own house, and take off your shoes, and act like you live here?" She admonished, with a small grin.

Brenda stepped out of her heels, wincing as the shoe rubbed against a blister on her tendon, and walked in stocking feet into the kitchen. Sharon turned, as she entered the room, and handed her a generously poured glass of Merlot. Brenda felt the spike of tears behind her eyelids, and she quickly raised the glass to her lips, hoping to compose herself. Sharon moved to stand next to her, her hand resting lightly on Brenda's back.

"Come on, bring that upstairs." She said, guiding Brenda to the staircase, and steering her up the steps. She settled Brenda on the bed, then went into the en suite, and ran the water for a bath, groaning as she scanned the shelves for something resembling bath salts, or even one of those infernal bath bombs that fizzed, that her daughter had been so enamored with. Spying an apothecary jar on the toilet tank, she grinned in relief, as the familiar shape of bath bombs in various colors stood out in stark relief against the white. She selected a purple one, hoping it was lavender, and tossed it into the water.

While the tub filled, she walked back out, to where Brenda sat, sipping her wine, in exactly the spot Sharon had left her. She pursed her lips, watching the younger woman, hating the sudden silences, and the smallness of her voice when she did speak. Sharon understood, probably better than Brenda knew, how she was feeling, but she also knew, that to dwell on it was madness. So she knelt in front of Brenda, trailing her fingers up her leg, pressing a kiss against the cap of her knee, before pulling her into a standing position. She reached beneath the dress, and hooked her fingers into the waistband of Brenda's nylons, and slowly rolled them down. She felt the other woman's slender hand on her shoulder for balance, as she lifted one foot, and then the other, kicking the panty hose aside. Sharon stood, and turned Brenda to face away from her, laying gentle kisses on the curves of her shoulders, as she unzipped the salmon dress, and slid it down over her lean frame. Finally, she unhooked the bra, slipping it down over Brenda's arms, and then gently slid her panties off. Brenda wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. Sharon pulled Brenda back against her, wrapping her arms over Brenda's, holding the woman close. She began to walk them into the bath, helping Brenda into the tub.

"Where do you keep your washcloths?" She asked, keeping her voice low.

"Uh, they're behind that cabinet, there, on the third shelf up. " Brenda replied, sinking into the water, feeling the tingle of tiny bubbles as they clung to her skin, before popping. The air was steamy with the scent of lavender, and the water was hot. Brenda felt so cold. She leaned her head back against the curve of the tub, and closed her eyes. Flashes of light and color exploded on her eyelids, each one starting out a vibrant white, or orange, and then fading to the dull red, taking on the shape of the pool of blood beneath Kevin Masen's head. She could feel the tears leaking, trailing from the corners of her eyes, down the indentation of her temple, soaking the fine hairs there.

Sharon dipped the cloth into the water, and picked up Brenda's right arm, methodically wiping her hands, cleaning away the gunshot residue first. As she passed the cloth over Brenda's trigger finger, she paused, tracing her thumb over the callus on the topmost knuckle.

"Look." Sharon whispered, putting her hand over Brenda's, fitting their fingers together. "I have one too." She ran her thumb over both of their calluses. "I know."

She continued to dip the cloth into the water, scrubbing Brenda's arms, and belly, her back and her legs, and finally her face, wiping the salty tracks away. Glancing around, she found a plastic tumbler, some amusement park logo splashed across it in garish lime green.

"Is this clean?" She asked, holding it up.

"Yeah. I used to use that to rinse Kitty off, when she got too sick to groom properly."

"Okay. I'm just going to get your hair wet, and then we'll shampoo it, all right?"

"Okay." Brenda was boneless in the heat of the water, the firm strokes of Sharon's hands and the washcloth had taken all of the knots out of her muscles, leaving her feeling rather like a jellyfish, or a noodle.

Sharon poured water over Brenda's hair, making sure to keep it off of her face, the movement coming naturally after raising two children. She quickly spotted the freesia shampoo, and snagged the bottle, squirting a dollop into her hands. She smoothed the lather over Brenda's hair, letting her fingers massage her scalp. She smiled as Brenda let out a sigh that sounded relaxed for the first time since the woman had thrown herself into Sharon's arms in the parking garage. Rinsing the suds away, she laughed softly. Brenda opened one eye, peering up at her.

"Something funny?" She mumbled.

"Just…are you a lather, rinse, repeat kind of girl? Or do you just lather and rinse?" Sharon couldn't keep the hint of mirth out of her voice as she parroted Brenda's words from their shower back at her.

To her relief, Brenda laughed, replying, "Tonight, I just lather and rinse."

Sharon nodded, pulling the plug from the drain, and stood, cringing as her knees cracked audibly. She reached for the enormous peach bath towel, then extended a hand to Brenda, who accepted, and stood with a little help. Sharon wrapped the towel around Brenda, then helped her step out of the tub. She dried her body, taking care not to let her touches linger, to arouse. Turning, she pulled the terry cloth robe from its hook on the door, and held it open, as Brenda shrugged into it. Sharon tied it at the waist, and then pushed Brenda to sit on the closed toilet, wrapping the towel gently around blond locks, squeezing the moisture out.

"Blow dryer?" She questioned, as she wicked as much moisture up with the towel as possible.

Brenda shook her head, leaning back into Sharon's hands. "I'm tired." She answered.

Sharon took the hint, and pulled Brenda to her feet, herding her back into the bedroom. She looked around, at a loss for the first time since she'd taken charge, opening the door for Brenda.

"I am hesitant, to go rooting through your dresser drawers. Perhaps you could point me in the direction of pajamas, or nightgowns?"

"I usually wear a big tee shirt. And they're in the second drawer down, over there." Brenda answered, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

Sharon walked over to the bureau, and fetched a shirt that had…the Dixie Chicks? And one that featured.. the Budwiser frogs. Frowning, she gave a cursory second look through the drawer, but the remaining choices weren't much better.

"Annoying twangy women, or frogs?" She asked, holding both up in front of Brenda.

"Frogs. But this better be the only time you bring other women to bed with us." Brenda replied, finally smiling , a real smile.

Sharon laughed, shucking her clothing, and pulling the tee shirt over her head. They climbed into bed, and Sharon pulled Brenda tight against her, tangling her fingers in still damp curls.

"Things will look better in the morning, sweetheart. I promise." She reached over, and snapped off the light, staring up into the darkness, until the moonlight softened its edges. "I promise."

Brenda's only response was a soft sigh. She was already asleep.


	46. Chapter 46

Her eyes snapped open, the sound of her heartbeat the only thing she could hear. Brenda couldn't remember her dream, but the faint coppery tang at the back of her throat, and the roiling in her stomach gave her a pretty good clue. She slid out from beneath Sharon's arm, slowly, so as not to wake the dark haired woman, and padded softly down the stairs, and into the kitchen, turning on the light above the range, instead of the blinding overheads. Filling a glass with water, she sat down at the table, staring at the distorted pattern of the tablecloth through the liquid. She sipped from the glass, hoping to calm her stomach, and her nerves, but the water was cold all the way down, and the knot in her gut only intensified. She sighed. Maybe Andy had been right. Maybe she should've let him take the shot, but it had all happened so quickly, and David…she closed her eyes against the thought. It didn't matter now, anyway. She'd shot Kevin Masen in the head, and nothing was going to change that. The question was, what would the shooting change? Would she be appointed Chief? If that happened, maybe she could mitigate the damage she'd done by flinging herself at Sharon. Groaning, she realized that regardless, she was going to have to undergo an FID investigation.

"Shoot." She muttered, spinning the glass slowly in her hands.

"Something wrong?" Sharon's soft voice floated in from the doorway, where she stood, arms crossed.

Brenda turned, surprised at the older woman's sudden presence. She took in the long legs, thighs disappearing under that ridiculous tee shirt, the subtle swell of her breasts above her crossed arms, the messy tangle of her sleep-disheveled hair. God she was beautiful.

"Not so much, now, anyway." She replied, smiling. "I just needed some water, and I didn't want to wake you." She gestured with the glass, before setting it down.

"Mmm." Sharon hummed, moving to stand next to Brenda. "Maybe you should take the day off, I can interview the rest of the officers involved, and catch you tomorrow. In the meantime, come back to bed. If you're going to insist on coming in…and I can see that you are, you can still catch another hour and a half of sleep." She took Brenda's hands, and pulled her to her feet.

Brenda let herself be led, once more, to her bedroom. She watched as Sharon sat delicately on the side, and then swung her legs in, a far cry from Brenda's usual ungainly belly flop onto the mattress. She must have smirked a little, because the Captain gave her an odd look, tilting her head to the side as though Brenda were a puzzle she could solve.

"I was just thinking about you, and bed." Brenda blurted, then blushed.

Sharon raised an eyebrow, and quirked her lips. "Is that so?"

"Not like that. I just mean, you get into bed so graciously, and I…you're right. I'm reckless. I don't think about how I do things, or the consequences of my actions, and nobody ever calls me on it. That's all." She tested out her theory, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and lifting her legs in. "That's not what I usually do, you know?" She continued, snugging the covers up to her chest. "Usually, I just flop down, exhausted. And I'm usually..or rather, I was usually the last one to bed, so I'm sure I must've jarred Fritzi awake more than once, but he never said anything."

Sharon pursed her lips at the automatic endearment, and the reminder that this bed had been a marital one not too long ago. "I will always call you on your actions, Brenda, but in this case? Though I still have to do a complete investigation, I know that you made the right call. FID will clear your whole team, unless there's something huge that I've missed. Now you need to pull yourself together, so that Behavioral Sciences will clear you as well. This was a good shot, Chief. But if you bellyflop into my bed, and wake me up? That will be a whole other story."

Brenda scooted closer to Sharon's side, pressing their bodies together. "Thank you," she murmured, nuzzling Sharon's neck with her lips. "You always know just what to say to me." Their lips met in a slow kiss, and a burn ignited in Brenda's stomach. As they parted, she glanced at the clock. "And hour and a half, you said?" She grinned, running her hand up Sharon's bare thigh, swiping her thumb over the sharp protrusion of her hipbone.

"Of sleep." Sharon replied, biting back a moan as Brenda's hand brushed the underside of her breast.

"Well, where I'm from, this would count. You see, I plan on sleeping with you." Brenda rolled Sharon's nipple deftly between her thumb and finger, hiding the smile that threatened to escape when she felt the dark haired woman's hips thrust forward, the heat already building.

"I've got to pick up a copy of _Southern Speak for Dummies_." Sharon retorted, as she began tracing a lazy trail across Brenda's collarbone. "It's clear we had a failure to communicate, down in the kitchen." She put a hefty twang to her voice.

Brenda giggled, actually giggled, as she dragged a heated kiss across Sharon's jaw. "Tell me if you understand this, Cap'n," She said, as she pushed the Dixie Chicks out of the way, and wrapped her lips firmly around Sharon's nipple.

"Oh…yes."

The third time Brenda hit the alarm, Sharon took the opportunity to slide out from beneath her.

"If you plan on working today, we have to get ready." She said, in her best no-nonsense tone.

"I thought I was working, Cap'n." Brenda pouted, not thrilled with the abrupt end to her throurough investigation of Sharon Raydor's body.

"Well. Yes. But it's really time to be up and at 'em." Sharon backed away as Brenda's eyes darkened.

"I really, really like it when you do that military slang." She slid out of bed and stalked towards the brunette.

"They're going to make the announcement for Chief today. I won't be able to be with you, when you find out, but I hope you'll let me know as soon as you can?" Sharon tried distraction, and sighed with relief when it seemed to work. She bent to turn on the shower as Brenda replied.

"You'll be the first person I call." Brenda pressed her body against Sharon's back, hugging her tightly.

"Platonic shower?" She suggested.

"I don't even think those two words belong together, but okay. There's a name for that," Sharon mused, stepping into the steaming spray, then moving back to make room for Brenda. "Those things, that people say, that don't make sense, like jumbo shrimp, or platonic shower."

"Oxymoron." Brenda supplied, as she handed Sharon the bar of Ivory soap. "That's the word you're looking for. And, I'm completely okay with sliding my slick, soapy hands all over your beautiful body, but you keep pointing out how short on time we are." She bent her head back beneath the spray, and as the water poured over her head, she thought more about the night before. "You washed my hair last night." It was a statement, not a question.

"I did." Sharon was busily soaping her legs.

"You gave me wine. Red wine." Brenda continued, as the moments flashed through her mind.

"It's your favorite." Came the matter of fact reply.

"I have never, ever, had anyone but my mother wash my hair." She poured a generous amount of body wash onto a pouf, and began lathering herself.

"Their loss. You have lovely hair. Besides, you washed mine, _first_, as I recall." Sharon grinned as Brenda scowled at the extra emphasis placed on the word first.

"But that was different." Brenda grumped, though the memory of that shower sent a fresh flash of heat through her body.

"Why? Because there was a sexual component to it? What makes it so terrible that I took care of you, and expected nothing in return?" Sharon blinked through the steamy air at the blond, who looked stricken.

"Because nobody's ever done that, except my mother." She finally replied, stepping forward to rinse the soap from her body.

Sharon caught Brenda in her arms, and captured her lips in a blazing, possessive kiss. "I am not, I assure you, your mother. But I—have feelings. And I take care of those I care about. Don't forget that." She fairly growled, as their lips parted. "Now, let's get a move on soldier. We're running behind!" She swatted Brenda on the rear as she stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel. She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up at Brenda's indignant squeal.

"Don't think I'll forget _that_, Cap'n." Brenda said, as she turned off the shower and reached for her own towel. "I'm like an elephant. Never forget anything." She sassed, sashaying into the bedroom.

"Indeed, Chief. I'm rather counting on it." Sharon purred.


	47. Chapter 47

Brenda sat at her desk, staring at Pope and Delk. She'd already handed her weapon over to Sharon, and now she felt like she was facing a firing squad. She let the heel of her shoe dangle loosely, as she bobbed her crossed legs, and kept silent, waiting for them to speak first.

"You know, Chief Johnson, one thing I find interesting, is that in all accounts, there was a DVD. Apparently a manifesto of some sort. And yet the Crime Scene techs never logged it into evidence." Delk's tone was different. Gone was the amiable rapport they'd had the day before.

"I'm sure it'll turn up. It's probably under a car, or something. Things were kind of crazy there at the end." She replied nonchalantly, even as she felt the pull of the offending disc in her drawer. She would not let that crazy man's ranting drivel become public.

"Well," Pope shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as he recognized the look passing over Brenda's face, "it's probably for the best that it hasn't turned up. The news stations would run it ad nauseum, and some other mentally instable lunatic would take up the charge."

"Mmm." Brenda realized she was mimicking the sound Sharon made. "I suppose you're right on that. Hadn't thought about it."

She glanced up as the door to her office opened, and Taylor poked his head in.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry. Chief, the Mayor wants to speak with you." As Brenda stood, surprised, his face fell. "Sorry, Chief Johnson. The Mayor wants to see Chief Delk." He shot her a sympathetic look, but followed Delk into the hall.

Pope gave her a hard look. "You okay?" He asked.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. I just need a minute to myself, okay? Thank you so much." She smiled, though it looked more like a grimace.

"All right then. You know the announcement will be in about half an hour, soon as they gather the vultures, I mean the press." He continued.

"I know. I'll be there with the team" She nodded, as he walked towards the door.

"If you need anything…"He trailed off.

"I'm fine. Thank you."

As he left, he shut the door behind him. Brenda stared at the drawer that held the offending disc, and then at her phone. She reached for the phone, and dialed the number that had become so familiar, she didn't even have to think about it.

"FID. Raydor." Sharon intoned, her voice distracted.

"It's Delk." Was all Brenda could muster.

"Damn." Sharon replied. "I was really looking forward to sleeping my way to the top."

Brenda laughed in spite of herself. "I don't even know why I'm upset. I didn't really want it."

"You like to win. It stings. We both know you'd be the better _man _for the job, but it's hard to appoint a chief who's involved in a fatal shooting, no matter how justified the shooting was. Speaking of which, when can we do your OIS interview?" Sharon was more focused on the conversation now.

"After they make the announcement. I'm going to watch the coverage with my team. I think they need that. Maybe I'll hand out Ding Dongs to everyone, soften the blow." She replied.

"Save one for me. And I'm sorry. But it does make things less complicated, regarding this." Sharon found the silver lining.

"That's true. Delk doesn't seem pleased. I hope you have the rule book memorized, because I'm counting on you being our defense. Lord knows I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing."

"Truer words were never spoken, Chief. We'll be okay. When's your BS interview?"

"This afternoon. Any tips?"

"Brenda…"

"I know. I'll see you after they make the announcement."

"All right. Good bye."

"Good bye. I uhm…I'll bring you a Ding Dong." Brenda hung up the phone quickly, her cheeks flushed red at her almost slip. Irrational as it was, she was terrified that admitting the depth of her feelings to the Captain would only ruin things. She heaved a sigh, and yanked open her candy drawer. The tiny silver disc shone up at her, defiant. She took it out of it's clear plastic case, and snapped it into two pieces. Then she threw the whole lot in the trash, tossing some paper on top. She grabbed enough Ding Dongs for her team, plus one more, and dumped them into her tote, and walked to the conference room, where Buzz had set up the TV. Everyone was already there, and she passed out the confections with a wry smile, before plopping into a chair and sinking into herself, noticing that thanks to their longer-than-necessary good bye kiss, her blazer smelled like Sharon. She breathed in the comfort that brought.

As they watched the Mayor clap Delk on the back, Brenda felt the waves of sympathy washing over her. Gabriel laid a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up, meeting his gaze.

"You all right?" He asked softly.

"Maybe I'm a little disappointed. Maybe I'm a little relieved. I never know." She replied in a rare moment of honesty.

"But, you don't get ahead politically by shooting dirtbags." Flynn piped up, giving her a crooked smile.

"Well, I for one, am glad she took the shot, even though my ears are still ringing." Gabriel chuckled, darkly.

"Whatever else, yesterday was a hell of a day." Pope said softly. "And if anybody needs me, I'm going to be in my office, typing up my resume." He turned and walked out of the room.

"You really think they'll get rid of him?" Sanchez asked.

"After what you did for him yesterday, it's doubtful. But who knows. It's politics." Provenza scoffed.

"I didn't do anything any of y'all wouldn't have done. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to my FID interview. Wish me luck."

"I'm guessing you don't really need luck. Even the new Chief knows that was a clean shot. I'm sure Captain Raydor will agree." Gabriel's eyes twinkled, and Brenda couldn't help but smile in return. She nodded to the rest of her team, and strode towards the elevator.


	48. Chapter 48

She flopped into the chair across from Sharon, and tossed the Ding Dong on the preternaturally neat desk in front of the dark haired woman. She resisted the urge to scatter the contents of the neatly hanging files across the surface. It wasn't Sharon she was mad at, after all. Truth be told, she wasn't sure who she was mad at. This felt a little too much like introspection, so she tossed a weak grin in the Captain's direction, and began unwrapping her second Ding Dong of the day. It wasn't even noon yet. Her ears perked up at the sound of another wrapper crinkling, and she raised her eyes from her own bit of chocolate, to watch Sharon take a tentative bite of the sweet cake, and when she lowered her hand, her eyes closed in an expression Brenda was pretty sure she'd seen only in the bedroom.

"Good, aren't they?" She chuckled, watching Sharon's jaw flex, trying to resist the urge to lean over the desk, and kiss her breathless, knowing that the flavor of chocolate combined with Sharon's mouth would leave her in no fit state for her Behavioral Sciences interview. But then Sharon, who must have felt Brenda's gaze, even with her eyes closed, brought the cake back to her lips, and instead of biting, she licked a bit of cream from the center. Brenda thought perhaps she might have made a mistake in coming down here, because the office, while technically Sharon's, was still far too open to the rest of the department. At least her office had blinds. And a conference table.

When Sharon opened her eyes, she saw the high spots of color on Brenda's cheeks, and smiled, before setting the rest of the cake to the side. "They're very good. But so very sweet, as well."

"That's the point, Sharon." Brenda laughed, popping the last of her confection into her mouth, and smirking.

"So, are you ready to give your statement now, or do you need a little time to deal with the disappointment of not being appointed Chief?" Sharon's gaze held the sympathy her tone belied.

"I'm okay. We can go ahead." Brenda shifted, crossing her legs.

As the interview progressed, Sharon kept asking thoughtful questions, about where Sanchez and the other detectives had been, and the timing needed to ensure that Masen and Detective Gabriel wouldn't drop the switch in a struggle. Brenda watched her take notes, her hand flowing seemingly like water over the page, and she was sort of lost on the idea that those fingers had touched her, not just sexually, but intimately, which was a rare distinction for her to make, and she missed the last thing Sharon had said.

"Sorry? I drifted for a minute, could you repeat that last question?" Brenda had the grace to blush a little bit.

"I was just saying, that I've concluded the investigation. All that's left now is to fill out the paperwork clearing this as a good shot, and then, when B.S. clears—"

"If.." Brenda interrupted.

"When B.S. clears you, stop by, and I'll have your sidearm ready for you."

"That's it?" Brenda stared at Sharon.

"That's it. I already spoke with everyone else. The accounts correlate positions, and prove the necessity of the use of deadly force. The department will be protected. You did the right thing. Now, trust me to do my job." Sharon's voice had fallen into the measured speech she only used at work, and Brenda sat up a little straighter.

"You do know, that I have always trusted you to do your job. It's just so _frustrating_, when our cases collide, because you're so…structured." She fumbled for the last word, as Sharon's eyes narrowed a bit.

"You mean, because I expect your team to follow the same rules as everyone else?" Sharon leaned forward, and Brenda couldn't help the brief drifting of her gaze, the expanse of revealed skin was a creamy contrast to the dark of Sharon's blouse, and suddenly, this didn't seem like a good time to have a discussion about this sort of thing.

"I love that color on you." Brenda blurted, then rubbed at her forehead. "I don't know why we're arguing."

"We're not. I just… It's difficult to articulate, but being in IA makes a person feel the need to defend certain career choices." Sharon's tone softened. "Anyway, I should have your gun ready by the end of your B.S. interview."

"Thank you." Brenda wanted to say more, explain her gratitude, but instead, she leaned towards the desk, and gestured at the end of Sharon's Ding Dong, sitting abandoned on a scrap of yellow legal paper. "It's a shame to waste that."

Sharon chuckled, and handed the cake over, then reached for a tissue to wipe the crumbs from her fingers. "I do like Butterfinger bars." She defended herself, as Brenda took the cake and stood.

Walking to the closed door, Brenda turned, and tilted her head. From right here, she couldn't see out of either window. Which meant that, this was a blind spot. She smiled.

"Come here for a minute?" Her voice was bright, and Sharon looked up in surprise.

She moved to stand in front of Brenda, a quizzical look on her face. "I don't make it a point to show people out of this office. It's hardly large enough for that sort of gesture." She said, a note of consternation in her voice.

"Well. You might need to make a rule, about walking me out." Brenda purred, and caught Sharon at the waist with her free hand, pulling her close, their bodies just touching.

Sharon's eyes widened, and she glanced around, cursing her choice to eschew blinds.

"They can't see right here. This corner here, is a blind spot. Now kiss me, because I need that, more than I need the rest of this cake." She chucked the bit of chocolate into the wastebasket near the door, and raised her still-chocolaty finger to Sharon's lips, dragging a few of the crumbs across the lower one, before tracing the same path with her tongue, then demanding access. Sharon's mouth tasted like coffee, and confection, and that flavor that seemed uniquely her, and Brenda held back a moan, as she broke the kiss.

"If they ever turn you into a candy, I'm a dead woman." She whispered against Sharon's neck, before placing a gentle kiss just below her ear. She thumbed the hint of lipstick from the bow of Sharon's mouth, and smiled. "You're just lucky you only ruined candy for me for a little bit. I might've had to shoot you, otherwise."

"Yes, well, sugar-induced homicide wouldn't be cleared by FID as a reasonable use of force." Sharon quirked her lips in that half smirk, as she walked back to her desk. "Good luck, not that you need it, but I know you're nervous."

"Thank you. I am hopeful that today will be a short day. Maybe we can do dinner, assuming nothing crops up?" Brenda wasn't sure that they weren't spending too much time together too soon, but she couldn't really picture her evening, after this day, of all days, alone.

"Of course. We'll figure out the plans after your interview." Sharon nodded, dropping into her seat and picking up a stack of forms from the tray to her left. "Now, scoot. I have triplicate forms to fill out before you can have your gun back."


	49. Chapter 49

This time, the interviewer from Behavioral Sciences was a woman. Brenda sat in the molded plastic chair, shifting every so often as her thighs stuck to the seat. The psychiatrist kept a thin smile on her lips, and it kept Brenda slightly unnerved, since, after all, they were talking about her killing a man.

"So you say you were afraid for your squad, and for the people in the surrounding area. Let me ask you, Brenda, were you afraid for your own life?" She leaned back in her own chair, and steepled her fingers.

"Well, of course. But you can't think about your own life in a situation like that. We have to turn off that self-preservation instinct, I'd guess you call it, so that we can act for the greater good." Brenda felt satisfied with that response, but her spirits deflated when the woman frowned.

"I'm told that another officer had a clear shot. Is there any reason that you fired first?"

"I was in front of Lieutenant Flynn, I wasn't sure he'd be able to avoid hitting Detective Gabriel with me in the way. And the way that Masen and David were struggling, I didn't want to risk waiting. It wasn't worth the risk." She closed her eyes briefly against the resurgence of emotion from that day.

"Which risk are you talking about," the psychiatrist leaned forward, crossing her legs, "the risk to your team, or the risk that you might have to leave them if you became Chief of Police?"

"I'm sorry?" Brenda sputtered. "I hadn't the time to consider the risk that I might have to leave them to become Chief of Police. I was face to face with a certified maniac, who had a bomb, and enough nerve gas to create a mini holocaust right here in downtown. So _that's _the risk I'm talking about. Politics had no place in my actions that day. It was a good shoot. I did what needed to be done. And even though it's likely part of why I was passed over for Chief, I would, if faced with the same scenario, react the same way. It was not worth the risk, Doctor." Brenda knew that her voice had risen to what was probably an unacceptable level, here in this too white office, with its weird modern art chairs, and the tinkling sound of wind chimes hanging from the A/C vents in the ceiling. She knew that the doctor, with her National Public Radio style of speaking, was probably sitting there thinking that she'd lost her mind, but for the first time since she'd pulled the trigger, she felt like she had perfect clarity. It WAS a good shoot. Sharon was right. Brenda smiled, and the doctor quirked a brow.

"You've come to a realization, I suppose. Care to tell me about it?"

"Well. I know it's up to you to declare me fit for duty, but honestly, until just this moment, _I_ wasn't sure I was fit for duty. But this was a good shooting. I didn't put anyone on my team in danger. I used an acceptable method of deadly force to remove a terroristic threat. I also killed a man, and that's something that will stay with me, it's an awful feeling, to take a life, but it's worse when you aren't sure you made the right call. Now I'm sure. So, whatever you decide, thank you so much for helpin' me get to this moment." Brenda shifted again, cringing and wishing for a slightly longer skirt, as the skin at the back of her knees pulled free from the beveled plastic.

"All right then. Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson, you are cleared for duty as of tomorrow. Go home, get some rest, and come back in the morning with that same conviction. I'm glad to see it." The doctor stood smoothly, and proffered a hand to Brenda, who stood, and shook it firmly.

"Thank you Doctor. I just want to say one thing though, now that I'm declared sane." Brenda's lips twitched.

"Go ahead." The psychiatrist looked curious.

"Those are _terrible_ chairs, if you're not wearing pants, or a longer skirt. Just awful." She said, and grinned.

"Yes, well. I didn't choose them. There was some article read by someone on the Board, who decided that a 'soothing' environment with 'naturally curving furniture' would turn out better results in counseling sessions. But you're right. They're awful." And the doctor smiled the first real smile since Brenda had walked into the room.

"Maybe bring a cushion or two, for those of us who don't know ahead of time to wear pants? In the interest of better results, of course." Brenda chuckled.

"That's not a bad idea, Chief Johnson. Not a bad idea at all. I hope I don't have to see you back here anytime soon, okay?"

"You and me both, not that you aren't a lovely person. But yes, I'd just as soon stay off your radar for the foreseeable future." Brenda headed towards the door, an eager bounce in her step.

"Don't forget. Tomorrow. You have to give me time to file my report. Don't work today." The doctor admonished as Brenda left.

In the elevator, Brenda leaned against the wall, and breathed deeply and slowly. Tonight, she'd ask Sharon about speaking with Pope about their relationship. She knew she'd have to speak with Delk, as well, but it seemed better to start with the devil she knew, after all. The elevator dropped her on the Major Crimes floor, and she stopped in the murder room to let her squad know she was cleared as of tomorrow.

"So, don't have any emergencies tonight, all right?" She beamed at Gabriel, who'd barked back a laugh at the repetition of her words from the start of the Masen case.

"Sure, Chief. I was gonna try and get Provenza to do my paperwork for this, and that'll take all night anyway." Flynn deadpanned, as Provenza whacked him on the elbow with a manila folder.

"I just…I just want y'all to know, that I am truly thankful to have such a remarkable team on my side." She said, meeting each of their eyes.

"Chief. You're gonna make _us_ question if you are fit for duty after all, you keep that up." Sanchez grumbled, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

Brenda laughed, and waved, then stuck her head in Pope's office.

"Just wanted to let you know, I'm all yours as of tomorrow. Cleared by both B.S. and F.I.D." She chirped.

"Already?" He looked perhaps more surprised than was called for, but covered well. "Thank goodness for Sharon Raydor and her efficiency, then."

Brenda was quite proud of herself for holding back the scowl that threatened to take over her features, and she just nodded. "So I'm off to get my sidearm from F.I.D., and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Take care, Brenda. I'm sorry, again, that this messed up your chances for Chief." He looked genuinely sorry, and for a minute, she forgot she was angry.

"We don't know that it was the shooting. Maybe he didn't like my dress." She snorted a laugh, considering the Mayor had all but drooled over the red dress that day.

"I find _that_ hard to believe. EVERYONE liked that dress. According to Provenza and Flynn, even Nikki Mendoza came up to check you out." Will rolled his eyes.

Brenda blushed to the roots of her hair, remembering exactly how well Sharon had liked the dress. "Yes, well. I'm basically all done talking about how I'm not the Chief. And about that dress. I'll see you tomorrow, Will." She ducked out, pulling the door behind her, before he could respond.

She walked back to the elevator, and as she stepped inside the empty carriage, she thought back to that first night, when everything had changed. What would've happened, if she'd kept her desk like Sharon's? It's not as though she would've had a place to lose that silly pen. But that first touch, that little brush of skin on skin, had set Brenda aflame in a way that still shocked her. Her own behavior was even more confounding. She shook her head, and watched as the numbers ticked by, bringing her to Sharon's floor. In another moment of revelation-like clarity, she decided that, once again, given the same scenario, this time her encounter with Sharon, she'd do the same thing. Except maybe she wouldn't wait so long. And maybe she would've kissed her in the elevator. And maybe… Her train of thought trailed off as the doors dinged open. She moved through F.I.D. like she belonged there, the layout of the desks almost as familiar as her Murder Room. As she approached the office, she could see Sharon sitting at her desk, glaring. Brenda craned her neck, and felt her stomach do an uneasy flip at the sight of Delk sitting smugly forward in his chair.

Brenda hovered, trying to appear inconspicuous now, as she watched Delk talk. She couldn't hear his words, but his face was tight with anger, and something that resembled disdain. She switched her gaze to Sharon, and recognized the statue-like stillness of her rage, though her face was implacable as ever. Her hands were tight on the arms of her chair, and Brenda could see white spots of tension at the knuckles, even from this distance. Then, one hand raised, and removed the thick rimmed glasses, and laid them aside on the desk. Brenda could see the bloom of color in Sharon's cheeks, and when the woman leaned forward, her elbows moving to the desk, Brenda decided to play her part.

She moved quickly to the door, and knocked twice, lightly, then pushed it open without waiting for a response. "Knock Knock, Captain!" She trilled, her voice higher than normal.

Sharon's head snapped up, and her eyes narrowed briefly. "I am in a meeting, Chief Johnson. You will have to retrieve your sidearm later." Her voice was cold, and Brenda felt the chill in her spine.

"All righty then. Oh, Chief Delk, I just wanted to say congratulations! I'm looking forward to serving on your Police Force, sir." Her honeyed drawl had turned saccharine, and sounded false to her own ears.

"Actually, Chief Johnson, we were just talking about you. Perhaps you'd care to join us for a moment?" Delk's voice was low, and scotch smooth as always, but there was something ominous, and Brenda nodded, letting her eyes slide quickly to Sharon, before taking the seat next to the man who called himself Tommy.


	50. Chapter 50

The room remained silent, and as the moments wore on, Brenda could hear the ticking sound of Delk's watch, the even, if slightly rapid, breathing of Sharon, and the blood rushing through her own head.

"Well, don't leave me hanging, Chief Delk! Do tell me why y'all were talking about little old me?" She was determined to play dumb, though she had a fairly good idea of where this was going.

"You see, I was reminding Captain Raydor here about certain rules and regulations here on the force." Delk began, but stopped when Brenda chuckled. "Something funny, Chief Johnson?" His voice dropped coolly.

"I was just thinking, that was probably a colossal waste of your time. That woman has the entire Police Code of Behavior and Conduct memorized. She must, as much as she's quoted it to me." She replied, sounding well and truly put out.

Delk tipped his head to the side, scratching absently at the beginnings of his early-onset five oclock shadow. "You sound annoyed by that."

"Well, honestly. I mean, I'm catching murderers! Sometimes, the rules need to be flexible. But I can't get _her_," she cut her eyes at Sharon, who was staring daggers in her direction, and swallowed convulsively before continuing, "to understand that I don't have time to look up subsection Q of paragraph 93.d or whatever, when I'm interrogating a suspect. She knows I find her frustrating to work with, but that said, I highly doubt you'd need to remind her of anything." She finished, hoping Sharon would let this play out in her hands, now, and not speak up just yet.

"Hmm. It's possible you have a point. Perhaps, as you've so eloquently stated, you need reminding of the rules, and not Captain Raydor. Particularly the rules on relationships with your immediate subordinates." Delk leveled his gaze at Brenda, his words smug.

"Chief Delk. Have you _seen _ my team lately? Commander Taylor wears pink shirts. David Gabriel is half my age. Lieutenant Provenza is the same age as my mother, and I won't even dignify the specter of Lieutenant Flynn with a response. Tao is married, and I don't like to gossip, but I'm about 95% sure that Buzz doesn't really find my _sort_ attractive, if you know what I mean." Brenda managed to sound positively scandalized.

Delk frowned, clearly not expecting an indignant outrage. He leaned back in his chair, and glanced between the two women. Sharon was rigid in her chair, and somewhere along the line, she'd put her glasses back on, making her expression unreadable. Brenda watched his face for a moment, and saw when he thought he'd found the right way to come at her again. She leaned forward over the arm of the chair, and patted his leg, cutting off his words.

"But don't you worry, Chief Delk. I do know that dating my direct subordinates is against the rules. I am also well aware of the fact that dating subordinates who do not directly report to me, or to my division, is well within the bounds of appropriate behavior. So I'm sure you couldn't be referring to anything you might think is going on between me and anybody else, could you? After all, as far as I know, for once, I'm actually playing by the rules." She kept her eyes on his, although everything in her wanted to turn, and gauge Sharon's reaction.

"Be that as it may, I need to be sure that my force is capable of handling anything, without any sort of impropriety, or inappropriate behavior. See that you conduct yourselves as the ranks you represent, when you are on company time." Delk spat, glaring first at Brenda, then at Sharon. He stood, and executed a stiff nod, before stalking out of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

Brenda sank down in her chair, and breathed out a huge sigh. She looked at Sharon, who was staring at her, but had yet to move. Brenda could see the tendons in her neck, and she decided to keep barreling forward.

"Before you say anything, Sharon, I meant what I said. I don't like secrets, and I am not ashamed to be with you. I told you that. Did you believe me?" She spoke quickly, locking her eyes on Sharon's.

"Yes." Came the clipped reply.

"Now, you made no such declarations. I don't need you to make those declarations. I had a hunch, when I peeked in the window, and saw how angry you looked, what _Tommy_ was here about. I brought him here, by throwing myself at you after everything with Kevin Masen. So it seems only fair that I give you a little breathing room to decide how you want to handle things, without Delk deciding to push us into anything." She paused, and when Sharon only gazed at her, she licked her lips, and continued.

"Listen, I had a sort of a, what do you call it, an epiphany when I was talking to the B.S. Doctor today. And after that, when I was swinging by to let Pope and my team know that everything was okay, I was thinking that I'd ask you, tonight, about talking to Pope about us. Partly, because I thought he'd be good practice before going to Delk, but also because if that man doesn't stop giving you those hang dog looks… At any rate, I decided that before I saw Delk. I wanted to see how you felt about it. How you feel about, being open, around the office." She stopped talking, as Sharon stood swiftly and moved to stand by the door.

Brenda stared, wondering if this was it for them. She swallowed against the lump in her throat, and stood up.

"Come here a minute?" Sharon murmured, her voice so low, Brenda almost didn't register her words. She walked to stand near the Captain, and Sharon reached out, catching her by the hips, and pulling her close. "It's a blind spot, Chief." And then, Brenda wasn't sure who closed the gap between them, but they were up against the door, kissing fiercely, Brenda's hands coming up to hold Sharon's shoulders, when she felt Sharon swipe her tongue along her bottom lip. She couldn't help the moan as she opened to her Captain, and felt everything Sharon was pouring into the kiss.

As they broke for breath, Brenda rested her forehead against Sharon's. Sharon closed her eyes, before leaning her head back, and looking at Brenda. "I don't declare things. I am not, what you would call, an emotive person. I have seen how you behave, with Agent Howard, and even with Pope, to an extent. I don't know that I can be that sort of person. I will always walk you to my door, however, and I don't mind explaining our relationship to our superior officers, because we have nothing to hide. But I don't want to become locker room gossip for the beat patrol, either. Perhaps we can come to a happy medium?" She finished, her voice both tired and hopeful.

"Well, of course. I'm aware that the rules won't be the same with you, just because of who you are. That's one of the things that I uh, that I admire about you. Most of what you saw here in the office was me trying to get my way, either from the FBI, or from Pope. As you pointed out to me not too long ago, capitalizing on my feminine charms is a time honored tradition, so I use what I was blessed with. I don't ever want to use you that way. So you don't have to worry about huge public displays of affection. But I do have blinds in my office. And those, Captain, create a much, _much _larger blind spot."

"So we'll go to Pope tomorrow, then?" Sharon wanted to make sure she understood the plan.

"Yes. I think we've already done the hard part. Delk obviously knows. So Will's the only loose end. And, I should tell you, Gabriel has known for a while. I would venture to say he gave me quite the shove in your direction, when we were struggling, though I've never explicitly said anything. But he's my best Detective, so, I can't be surprised that he figured it out before everyone else."

"All right. I suppose I may let Sgt. Elliot know, as well. I believe he thinks I am losing my mind, and I think it will do him good to know that I am both sane, and happy." Sharon mused, tangling her fingers with Brenda's, bringing her knuckles up for a kiss. "Now, as I recall, I owe you one shiny sidearm, fit for duty." She pulled Brenda back to her desk, and unlocked the bottom drawer, and handed Brenda her service revolver.

"Thank you." Brenda leaned over and grabbed her tote, fishing her holster out of the depths. Sharon watched as Brenda fluidly donned the holster with practiced movements, then checked the chamber of her gun, before slapping it closed, snapping the safety on, and popping it in the holster, thumbing the snap. The whole process left Sharon slightly breathless, and for a brief moment, she was back in the morgue, standing across the cold metal table, swapping gun parts, and wondering where all of her animosity had gone.

"It is truly a pleasure, watching you work, Chief Johnson." She husked, dragging her eyes up to meet Brenda's.

"Thank you. I umm, I'm not officially cleared for duty until tomorrow. B.S. has to submit their paperwork. So I'm off, as of now. I was thinking, I might put something together for dinner, if you're up for it?" The look in Sharon's eyes was making it hard to think.

"Are you threatening to cook for me?" Sharon sounded faintly horrified.

"No! Goodness no. I don't, I'm not, I can make a few things, but that's mainly because my Mama wouldn't have let me leave home without knowing how to make a proper Christmas and Thanksgiving dinner, or a breakfast in bed sort of thing. She has, different priorities. So I was going to hit a few take out spots." Brenda wasn't even sure if her oven worked anymore, truth be told.

"Why don't you go home and feed Joel, and get a change of clothes, and then come to my place for dinner?" Sharon suggested.

"Okay. What do you want me to pick up on my way over? Chinese?" Brenda questioned.

"I do not share the same aversion to the kitchen as you do. So I rather planned on cooking. But feel free to bring the wine." Sharon smiled, then walked around her desk, and put her hand at the small of Brenda's back. "May I walk you to the door?" She asked with that damnable smirk.

"I'd be insulted if you didn't." Brenda replied, snagging the straps of her tote, as she let herself be guided by the gentle pressure of Sharon's hand on her back.

Reaching the door, they shared a slow, languid kiss, before Sharon ushered Brenda out. As she closed the door behind the Chief, Sharon turned around, and started estimating the size of her windows. Vertical blinds couldn't be that expensive, after all.


	51. Chapter 51

It occurred to Brenda, as she mounted the steps to Sharon's house, that she'd never really seen the interior. Sharon moved through her house as though it was as familiar as her own, but, as Brenda pressed the doorbell twice, she realized she'd be hard pressed to locate the bathroom, let alone the wine in the kitchen. Her reverie was cut short as the door swung open, and Sharon ushered her in. As she closed the door, Sharon hooked an arm around Brenda's waist, and pulled her close, kissing her gently. Brenda sank into the sensation of their lips moving softly in rhythm, and she looped her own arms around Sharon, pressing their bodies together tightly, sighing as their tongues touched. All too soon, they broke for breath.

"Hey." Brenda whispered, leaning her forehead against Sharon's.

"Hey indeed. I hope you're hungry. I got off work earlier than I expected, so dinner is almost ready." Sharon moved back, twining her fingers with Brenda's.

"Starved. I was so mad after that meeting with Delk, I just forgot to have lunch. So I haven't had anything to eat since this morning."

"Anything?" Sharon raised a bemused eyebrow.

"Well, okay. I had a ding-dong. And some twizzlers. But that hardly counts as a proper lunch, now does it?" Brenda huffed.

Sharon laughed, and turned to the kitchen. "Come on. You can open the wine and let it breathe while I finish up."

Brenda followed, her eyes soaking in everything. The house was bigger than she'd expected, with expansive windows providing a view of the PCH, and the water beyond. The walls were wood paneling, painted white, and there were exposed beams on the roof. Her furniture was inviting, but spoke of money, a large cream settee, with matching chairs, a low, glass topped coffee table. The art on the walls surprised Brenda. It had never really occurred to her that Sharon would be into anything beyond your basic couch painting, but the pieces adorning the walls seemed to be real art, not things you could buy at Rooms To Go. She shook her head at the big screen TV, and frowned when she didn't see the blinking numbers of an programmed VCR.

"This is a nice place, you've got here." She murmured, the cherry wood floor smooth beneath her shoes.

"Thanks. I'm fond of it. A little oasis in the otherwise chaotic existence of one Sharon Raydor." She snorted, the sound closer to bitter than amused.

Brenda focused in on the other woman, but Sharon was crossing the threshold into the kitchen, and Brenda couldn't see her face. She decided to let it hang for now. The kitchen was just as bright as the living room had been. Large open cabinets adorned the higher parts of the wall, and the counters were fancy, quartz, maybe, or that Corian kind that Fritz had been so excited about. An island took up the center of the space, and Brenda blinked twice, because it seemed to have its own sink. Glancing around, she realized that all of the appliances matched, and the pulls on the drawers were the same matte stainless steel. It shouldn't have surprised her, the almost surgically clean feel to the kitchen. She'd seen Sharon's desk, after all, and her car didn't even have an errant gum wrapper in the console, so the meticulous placement of counter appliances, and knife blocks should have been expected, but Brenda still felt slightly out of place.

"Are you going to stand there and gape, or are you going to open the wine, Brenda?" Sharon's voice cut into her thoughts.

"Oh, right. Where would I find a corkscrew?" She replied, taking the opportunity to glance around once more.

"On the island, above the wine rack." Sharon gestured with the paring knife she held.

"All right." She found the corkscrew, and set about letting the wine breath. There were stools here, near the island, a light unfinished wood. She perched on one, and watched Sharon move around the kitchen. It was so different than watching Fritz, or even her mama cook. Sharon was a study in grace. Her limbs moved with a fluidity that sent heat searing through Brenda, as she watched her Captain chop something…radishes, perhaps, into fine slivers. The sure movement of her hand, the flexing of the tendons in her wrist. Brenda was mesmerized. Sharon set the knife aside, and scooped the red bits of vegetable into a large bowl, already packed with greens, and other colorful veggies. Brenda groaned inwardly. Salad. She leaned her chin in her hand, as her eyes followed Sharon from the counter to the oven. She watched as Sharon pulled the door open, and basted something that smelled heavenly.

"What are you making?" She asked, breathing deeply.

"Balsamic beef with caramelized onions, roasted root vegetables, creamy garlic mashed potatoes, and a surprise for desert." Came the slightly smug reply.

"How on earth did you have time for this?" Brenda asked, incredulously.

"I swung by the house on my lunch break, and tossed the beef in the marinade, and did the few things that needed to be done ahead of time, for desert. The rest is just a matter of chopping and timing. That's all. " Sharon shrugged,

"Well, it smells delicious." Brenda said, leaning over to peek at the wine rack at her knees.

"It's nice to have someone to cook for again." Sharon's voice carried that same odd tone, and Brenda caught her eye.

"Is everything okay?" She reached out, laying her hand over Sharon's on the counter.

"I just got a call from my son, that's all. He wants to go spend Christmas with his frat brothers at some tropical something, instead of meeting up in Park City like we always do. And it's not as though I begrudge him the freedom, but my parents are getting on, and I worry that each holiday will be the last." She pursed her lips, and spun back to the salad, giving it a vigorous toss.

"Oh, Sharon. I don't know what to say…I'm not a parent, and I refuse to ponder the mortality of my parents, but, maybe you could come to a compromise? Charlie, my niece, is in her freshman year, and her winter break is about 2 weeks. So couldn't you ask…" Here she trailed off, realizing she had no idea what either of Sharon's children were named.

"Jeff." Sharon supplied wryly.

"Couldn't you ask Jeff to spend the first bit of his break with his little friends, and then meet up with y'all on Christmas Eve? That way, he gets to do the things that boys do in college, and you still get your whole family to the dinner table on Christmas day."

"It does occasionally astound me, how your mind works." Sharon swept across the room, and settled herself between Brenda's legs, pressing their lips together.

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered, or offended, Cap'n." Brenda replied breathlessly, when the kiss ended.

"Flattered. A certain Chief I know taught me that flattery and flirtation will get you everywhere." Sharon smirked, moving to the cabinet and fetching the wine glasses.

She poured, exactly half glasses, for each of them, and propped herself on the stool next to Brenda.

"Dinner should be ready in about 10 minutes. How was the rest of your day?"

"Really? How was my day? We sound like an old married couple already." Brenda laughed, taking a sip of merlot.

"It only counts if I don't listen to your reply. Otherwise, it's a perfectly valid date question." Sharon reproached, primly.

"Well, I spent a good part of it trying to murder Delk with my mind. I just ended up with a headache. Then I thought about needing to tell Pope. Which made the headache worse, and that's when the ding-dong's came out. I took Joel to the groomers, because he looked too fuzzy. They say he's depressed, and so he's not cleaning himself as much as he should. Whoever heard of a depressed cat?"

"They do make kitty Prozac." Sharon offered, hiding her smirk behind her wine glass.

"I think I might have to relinquish custody to Fritz. He's more maternal than I am."

"Paternal, perhaps?"

"No. He's a mom. He just doesn't know it. He's not happy if he doesn't have someone to take care of. Why are we talking about my ex?"

Just then, the timer beeped shrilly, and Sharon rose swiftly, moving to the oven, and removing two pans, expertly depositing them on the dining table trivet. The places had already been set, and so the two women carried their wine glasses, and the bottle, into the room with high ceilings, and a china hutch that took up almost an entire wall. The table was light wood, covered with a summery yellow cloth, the dishes an ocean blue. Brenda got the sense that the whole house had been inspired by the beach. As Sharon portioned out the food, Brenda kept a roving eye, noting the low buffet, that seemed to be made from driftwood, and the artwork on the walls appeared to be exquisitely painted birds, egrets, herons, and other birds that reminded Brenda of her southern home.

Taking the first bite of beef, Brenda couldn't help the small sound of pleasure that escaped. Sharon smiled a bit, and gestured to the dish.

"The secret is caramelizing the onions."

"I'll never tell, as long as you promise to keep cooking."

"Deal."

For a while, the only sounds were silverware clinking against the cheerful plates, and soon, the meal was consumed. Brenda stood, intending to help clear away the plates, but Sharon pressed on her shoulders, leaning in, and whispering. Her words left Brenda blushing, and stationary. Sharon stacked the plates quickly, and carried them into the kitchen. Brenda could hear her moving around, and though she was grateful that Sharon had made a surprise desert, she was thrumming from the suggestive words echoing in her ears, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could stay put.

Sharon returned, carrying a small plate, with something chocolate on them. Brenda thought it looked like ice cream, but it didn't seem to be melting.

"Close your eyes, and open your mouth." Sharon husked, kneeling in front of the younger woman.

Brenda obeyed, and Sharon spooned a morsel of triple chocolate mousse on a dark chocolate base into her waiting mouth. Brenda swirled the flavors around on her tongue, feeling the chocolate spike through her system just the same as arousal, and her eyes snapped open. Snagging the spoon from Sharon, she mirrored the spoonful of mousse, and as Sharon swallowed, Brenda caught a fistful of that dark hair, pulling her into a kiss, tasting wine, and chocolate, and desire on Sharon' s tongue. Brenda stroked the sensitive flesh of Sharon's lower lip, raising a hand to sweep over the crest of her breast, and she knew that it was going to be a very, long, night.


	52. Chapter 52

Sharon, implacable as always, insisted upon clearing the table, batting Brenda's wandering hands aside as she loaded the dishwasher, and put the leftovers in Tupperware.

"I promise I'm going to take full advantage of having you here, just as soon as I wipe the counter."

"You're impossible. I just want to feel you, against me, inside me, I want to be inside you, and you're wiping up crumbs." Brenda pouted, the weight of the day still heavy in the back of her mind. Delk's visit had rattled her, but Sharon's reaction had been equally unsettling.

Sharon carefully hung the cloth over the center divider in the sink, and quickly rinsed her hands, before turning to face Brenda.

"Do you know how old I am, Brenda?" She asked, her voice quiet.

"What? Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" Brenda leaned against the island, crossing her arms.

"I have been living alone, well, with my children, or alone, for quite a long time. As you love to point out, I am bound to routine at work, and it's not so different here, in my home. You've turned many things upside down for me, but if you want me to truly focus on you, to be present with you, tonight, you have to meet me halfway. I don't adapt to change well. And you are very different." Sharon moved closer to Brenda as she spoke, wrapping her arms around the younger woman's waist to soften her words.

"You mean, me naked on top of you wouldn't be enough to distract you from a sink full of dishes?" Brenda half-joked.

Sharon grabbed a fistful of blonde hair, and pulled Brenda into a searing, breathless kiss, before spinning her, and marching her towards the stairs.

"Who said you'd be on top?" Her voice was low, and Brenda felt the promise in her tone.

Sharon herded Brenda up the steps, keeping a hand on her lower back, and once they crossed the threshold to the bedroom, she tangled the fabric beneath her fingers into a fist, and tugged her back against her, brushing her hair aside, and kissing the nape of her neck.

Brenda leaned back against Sharon, relishing in the surprisingly sturdy strength of the body behind her. But Brenda wanted to control this interaction. Her entire day, people had been making decisions for her, about her, instead of her. She whirled and pressed her lips to Sharon's with a bruising ferocity, her tongue swiping out, stroking in to Sharon's mouth. Sharon's hands came around, grasping, but Brenda batted them away, breaking the kiss long enough to divest Sharon of her shirt, and bra, twirling the diamond hard nipples between her fingers. She let her lips map a path down the column of Sharon's throat, nipping, licking, and sucking hard enough to mark, once she got below clothes level. Sharon arched her back as Brenda licked the swell of her breast, her teeth teasing the sensitive flesh, and whimpered as the flat of Brenda's tongue swept over her nipple, before continuing down to the valley of lightly freckled skin, and up the crest of the other breast. Brenda put her hands on Sharon's hips, and walked her backwards towards the bed, letting the mattress knock into the back of the older woman's knees, pushing her to sit, and then Brenda dropped to the ground in front of Sharon, pressing her thighs apart with a little more enthusiasm than usual. Sharon looked down at Brenda, as she shoved the material of the skirt up, leaning back to allow the fabric to bunch at her waist. This wasn't quite what she expected, but as Brenda's tongue teased the lace edge of her panties, she figured that maybe she didn't have to go first this time. Brenda hooked her fingers into the jewel-toned silk, and pulled it quickly down and off, retracing the path back up with her tongue. Sharon gasped at the first swipe of heat against her, tangling her fingers in Brenda's hair. Brenda let her tongue wander, never holding still long enough to do anything but arouse, and maybe frustrate, holding the skirt up and out of the way. Sharon tightened her hold on the blond locks in her fist, and hooked a leg over Brenda's shoulder, drawing her in with gentle pressure. She felt the sting of teeth against her most sensitive part, and cried out, hips bucking forward, as Brenda laved the spot with her tongue, soothing.

Sharon could feel a slow burn building in the small of her back, as the light, teasing flicks, and then, the surprising deep, drawing sucks against her heated skin brought her ever closer to the edge. Brenda could feel the change in her lover's tempo, the slight tug on her hair as Sharon moved against her mouth, and she brought one hand down to push into the ready wetness, three fingers at once. Sharon clenched tightly around her, a low moan escaping, as she hooked her other leg over Brenda's other shoulder, both hands now clutching at Brenda's hair. Brenda focused her tongue with laser like focus on Sharon's bundle of nerves, fast hard strokes of her tongue, the tightening of the muscles around her fingers telling her that there wasn't long to go, she sucked hard, letting her teeth graze the tiny hood, and Sharon came hard, warmth and wet coating Brenda's face and hand, as she drew out the pleasure, relishing the jerks and spasms, as she slowly removed her fingers. She sat back on her heels, and looked up at Sharon, who was leaned back on her elbows, breathing rapidly, but staring at Brenda with a gaze so intense, Brenda couldn't help but shiver. She met those flashing eyes, and then slowly, deliberately, slipped each damp digit into her mouth, before standing, and shucking off her own clothes.

Sharon stood also, slowly lowering the zipper of her skirt, letting it fall to the floor, stepping over it, to press her body against Brenda's, as she leaned in, tracing her tongue through the slight sheen around Brenda's mouth. Brenda let out a low groan, as a surge of heat pulsed through her, at the sensation of Sharon cleaning her face like this. When Sharon dragged her tongue over Brenda lips without preamble, Brenda opened, and Sharon licked into Brenda's mouth, the taste of her own sex, and Brenda's dark flavor combining into something heady. She led Brenda to the bed, gently pressing her supine, before arching over her, dragging their breasts together, pressing a thigh against damp blond curls.

She lowered her head, licking smoothly along Brenda's jawline, sucking gently on her earlobe, and whispered; "Tell me what you want."

Brenda pushed her head back into the pillow, so she could look into Sharon's eyes. The intensity was still there, but up close, she could see something else, a kind of understanding that left her reeling. Sharon was letting her decide, Brenda realized. Somehow, she knew that Brenda was feeling slightly out of control, and she was giving it back in the best way she knew how. So Brenda kissed her, so that words she wasn't ready to say, didn't come falling from her lips. Sharon let the kiss stay gentle, then broke away, kissing along Brenda's neck.

"Tell me, Brenda. Do you want my fingers? Or my mouth? "She murmured against the skin of Brenda's shoulders, before leaning down to wrap her lips around a taut nipple.

Brenda wriggled beneath her, rearranging their bodies so that they met, at center, and she whimpered, a little, at the wet heat mingling with her own. Sharon rolled her hips, and moved up a little higher, finding the best angle for both of them, then pressed forward again. Brenda gasped, and pulled Sharon into another kiss, as her own hips set a steady rhythm. Sharon's breasts swept sensually over Brenda's, and Brenda arched into the contact, as Sharon's tongue moved slowly against her own. Sharon picked up the pace, pressing down with her hips, and Brenda squeezed her thighs tightly against the slender body between them, leveraging up against the slick rasp of curls against her overheated skin. Sharon moved sinuously atop of her, her hands and lips everywhere at once, touching, kissing, and then pinching both of Brenda's nipples at once, which sent the younger woman spiraling into orgasm, and Sharon pressed their lips together, swallowing Brenda's moans, as the sudden spread of heat against her tipped Sharon over the edge as well, sighing into the kiss.

Sharon shifted, readying herself to roll to the side, but Brenda held her close, her face nestled in the space between Sharon's neck and shoulder. Sharon supported herself on her elbows, trailing her fingers through Brenda's hair, in a pleasant haze.

"I'm sorry." Brenda whispered, her eyes closed tightly.

"What are you apologizing for?" Sharon asked, pressing a kiss to a slightly sweaty temple.

"For before. It's just…all day, it was hurry up and wait, and people telling me what to do, and not having any control over my morning, or my "coming out" to the new Chief…I just overreacted to the dishes. And then, once we got up here…" Her voice was small as it trailed off.

"Once we got up here, you reminded me that here, in this room, I'm Sharon, not Captain Raydor, and I don't always have to go first. And then you proved that you are an extremely quick study." Sharon laughed a little, at the indignant sniff that garnered.

"It took this long for me to be a quick study?"

"Well, no. But, you have to admit, this was different."

"I know. I hope that you aren't sore later." Brenda winced at the possibility.

"If I am, it'll be a good sore. Slow isn't always the way to a girl's heart, Brenda. If I wasn't okay with what you were doing, I wouldn't have let you do it. So don't even worry about that." Sharon rolled off, tucking Brenda's body against hers.

"You always know what to say. That takes some getting used to." Brenda reached for the comforter, pulling it over them.

"Of course I do." Sharon teased, as she adjusted the pillow beneath her head.

"You're awful, you know that, right?"

"Mm. So I've heard. Also, I apparently at one point, was "wicked" as well. But you wouldn't know anything about that, I'm sure."

Brenda had the good grace to blush. "That was…before."

"Before you realized that you were attracted to me?"

"Before I got to know you. I was attracted to you even then, I think. I'm pretty sure that's why I fought against you so hard. Because it was either that, or acknowledge that you had an effect on me that nobody else had."

Brenda dropped a kiss on Sharon's shoulder, then kissed her lips, gently.

"At least Provenza gave you a broom. We weren't totally heartless."

Sharon snorted indelicately, recognizing the subject change for what it was. "Well, yes. Thank heavens for Louie Provenza, and his tact and chivalry when it comes to unpleasant cartoons."

Brenda chuckled. "And a hat. And a little blowing-away house. It was a good picture, but they got your legs all wrong."

"Again, with you and my legs. I'm starting to think you've been checking them out for longer than you're copping to."

Brenda shrugged. "Possible. But I'll never tell." She hid a yawn behind Sharon's shoulder.

"Indeed." Sharon closed her eyes, warm under the covers.

"Falling asleep on me already?"

"Need I point out, you yawned first, Brenda. Also, you're back on duty tomorrow. I'm only looking out for your interests, of course. If you don't get enough sleep, you might shoot Pope when we have to speak to him. And I'd rather not have to investigate you anymore. At least, not at the office." Her voice took on a sultry tone.

"I only harbor violent tendencies when he's flirting with you. Somehow, I suspect that won't happen tomorrow, because he'll be too busy trying to figure out when we got together, and how he missed it."

"He missed it, because he's an idiot. It's not as though I've kept my lifestyle under total lock and key. Flynn knew."

"Andy?" Brenda was surprised. "He never said a word. I knew because I saw you a few years back, when I was out with Fritz. You were a few tables away, sitting across from a woman with dark hair, and great cheekbones, and I didn't think anything of it, until she leaned over the table and kissed you, and you kissed her back. Fritz kicked me under the table, accused me of 'staring'. I wasn't, though. I was just surprised."

"Hmm. Dark hair and great cheekbones…I suppose it might have been Helena." Sharon mused sleepily.

"You suppose?"

"I admit to serial dating after my last serious relationship. But that's a story for another time. We should get some sleep." Sharon nuzzled her lips against Brenda's forehead, before giving her a slow, tender kiss.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Sharon. I want to know you, better than I do right now. But yeah. Let's sleep. Going first makes me tired."


	53. Chapter 53

The ringing of Sharon's phone brought her awake in an instant. She fumbled briefly, but recovered, swiping it with practiced ease.

"Raydor." She answered, her diction perfect, words not slurred from sleep.

"_Sharon?__It__'__s__Andy.__I__'__m__going__to__need__your__services._" Andy Flynn's words were ice in her stomach.

"Andy? You haven't killed anyone, have you?" She closed her eyes.

"_I__don__'__t__think__so.__I__shot__him,__but__he__got__away,__at__least__around__the__corner._" He sounded winded.

"Stay. Put. And I'm calling a bus for you, you sound awful. I will be right there." She flicked the screen, killing the call, before turning to Brenda's slumbering form. She reached for the slender shoulder tucked snugly under her Egyptian cotton sheets, but her hand hovered just above. If she woke her, Brenda would insist on showing up. But the Chief's phone hadn't rung. Her appearance at a crime scene to which she had not been called would only complicate matter. Sharon sighed deeply. This was going to cause an argument, undoubtedly. Still, Delk held the cards now, and Sharon knew that arriving together at the scene would inevitably filter back to him. And he could transfer Brenda, essentially exile her, perhaps to Fugitive Squad, or Traffic. She shuddered. Best to let her sleep.

Decision made, she slipped noiselessly out of the bed, and fetched a pencil skirt and blouse in Nor'easter grey, knowing they'd match the blazer hanging on the hook by the front door. She quietly ran a comb through her hair, fluffing it gently with her fingers, and slicked on a fresh coat of lipstick, before grabbing her Blahniks from their unorthodox resting place by the door. In the hall, she shrugged into the clothing, and carried the shoes down the steps, her bare feet barely whispering against the soft grain of the wooden floors. Snagging her blazer off the hook, she pulled it on, shouldering the purse beneath it, and then eased the front door open, flipping the lock back into position once it had cleared the jamb. She stepped into her shoes, and outside in a fluid, silent move, pulling the door gently closed behind her. She reached into the clutch, and retrieved her keys, locking the bolt, and then walked quickly to her car.

On the way to the scene, she radioed for an ambulance for Flynn. As she drove, she drummed her fingers on the wheel. This was going to be a test for their relationship, she knew that. Flynn hadn't called Brenda first, and that was bound to rankle. Sharon knew that she would get the brunt of that ire, plus some for leaving Brenda blissfully ignorant in sleep. She pondered sending a text, but decided that was a coward's maneuver. At a red light, she clenched her fingers together, watching as the skin across her knuckles discolored to a pale white, and then, when she relaxed them, flooded to a gentle pink. It was the same sort of color progression that danced across Brenda's chest just before…the honk of a horn behind her put Sharon back on task, and she pulled away from the intersection. Pressing a button, she activated the Bluetooth in her car.

"Call Elliot" She instructed, and the mechanical voice confirmed the action.

"FID, Elliot." He answered in half a ring.

"I need you to meet me in the parking lot of St. Luke's. There's been an OIS involving Andy Flynn, and I'd rather not have the rookie on this one. I know it's late, and you've just had a baby, and I'm very sorry to inconvenienced you, but I need you on this."

"Sure thing, Captain. I don't live too far from there, so I'm on my way."

"Thank you, Sargent. I will see you at the scene." She ended the call.

Arriving, she found Flynn arguing with the paramedics. He looked sallow, his cheeks sunken and paler than normal. She strode over quickly, and took rapid notes as he began his statement. As he spoke, his words began to slur a bit, and he tipped forward, slumping. The paramedics caught him under the arms, and heaved him into the bus. Sharon's throat was unreasonably dry, as she turned her steely glare on the EMTs.

"Do NOT let this man die." She growled, before dismissing them with a wave. She turned, and felt a flood of unexpected relief at the familiar sight of Provenza and Tao. She rolled her eyes. Sentimentality towards Major Crimes was going to have to stop. She wasn't bedding the whole division. Fortunately, following close behind was Sargent Elliot. She nodded to the Major Crimes officers, and then focused on her Sargent.

"He was attacked here, at his car. They fought, which brought them to here, and then here," she measured the steps, wincing inwardly at the amount of blood on the ground. "Here, they struggled, and this is, I believe, where Lieutenant Flynn indicated he was wounded by the knife. Here, they struggled, and Flynn broke free, retrieving his service weapon. The suspect was fired upon twice, Flynn indicates both were hits. We can then follow the blood trail here, across the parking lot, and here, to the sidewalk for approximately 3 yards, where the trail disappears completely."

"So he either had an accomplice, or he's driving while losing a ton of blood." Provenza muttered.

"I am inclined to hope that he isn't driving himself. If he were to black out, he could kill innocent people."

Tao knelt low, peering at the red stains on the pavement. He duck walked around two of the spatters, then grinned.

"He's not driving himself. Look, the drops end here, at the curb. But the spatters have the same edging. So he never changed position. Which means the car was parked here, facing north, with the passenger side accessible. If the car had been facing south, the edging would indicate that he'd turned around to enter the vehicle." He glanced up, shoving his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.

"Excellent work, Lieutenant. Thank you." Sharon was genuinely grateful for at least that small reassurance. Her relief was short lived, as a tan sedan whipped into a parking place across the street. She flinched, as the car door slammed, and Brenda stalked across the street, fury radiating from her frame.

"Where is my Lieutenant, Cap'n?" Brenda spat.

"He's gone ahead in the bus to Mercy. He lost some blood, and there was concern about his ribs, as I understand it." Sharon replied gently.

"Why am I only hearing about this from Detective Gabriel?" At this, Brenda glared at her officers, as well as Sharon.

"I thought Andy called you." Provenza groused. "If I'dda known he just called me and the Cap, I woulda called you."

"Lieutenant Flynn called Captain Raydor himself?" Brenda moved from fury to incredulity.

"I did receive a call from him, yes." Sharon confirmed.

"I'm going to the hospital to see my Lieutenant. You have my phone number, don't you Captain? Surely you can give me a call if the mood strikes you, and there's anything important you might want to relay." Brenda spun on her heel and stalked back to her car.

Sharon sighed, and pressed her thumb into her temple. It was going to be a very long day, indeed.


	54. Chapter 54

Brenda fumed all the way from the crime scene back to her house. It wasn't so much that Andy hadn't called her, though that hurt. It was waking up with the expectation of a warm body, and finding long chilled sheets. No note. The realization of exactly how much that empty bed scared her. She wasn't a fool, Brenda knew that her feelings were likely the stronger of the two. Consistently, she'd been making the moves, advancing and backing away based on Sharon's signals. So she knew that her anger was fueled partly by fear. Didn't make her feel any more agreeable, regardless of her stellar self-awareness.

She pulled in to her driveway, and reached for her bag, before stepping out of the car. She glared at the cheery glow from the neighbor's window, making her own house seem darker in comparison. She slowed her footsteps a smidge…was that a figure on her porch? She tucked her hand into her tote, relieved to find her service pistol right where it belonged. Her thumb ghosted over the safety, and she squinted into the inky dark, wishing she'd remembered to at least turn on the damn porch light. Fritz was better at remembering that sort of thing. She tightened her fingers around the pistol grip, and put her foot on the first step.

"Brenda Leigh, put the safety back on." Fritz's voice startled her enough that she stopped moving entirely.

"Fritz?" She hated the hopeful note that crept into her tone.

"Hi. I uh, I've been here a while. You weren't here, and I didn't want to just, I mean, I don't live here anymore, so…" he trailed off awkwardly, pushing a hand through his hair.

Brenda thumbed the safety back on, and released her death grip on the gun. She took the remaining four steps in two, and paused on the landing.

"Want to explain why you're on my porch in the middle of the night, Fritz?" Her voice remained even.

"Well, as it turns out, the job in DC wasn't exactly what I was expecting. I, ah…they offered me my old position back. As liaison. I tried to call you a few times over the last week, to give you a heads up, but, you haven't returned my calls. I am scheduled to meet with Delk, and Pope and a few of the other higher ups in the department tomorrow, and I wanted to tell you first, in person. So you wouldn't be caught off guard." He gave a rueful shrug.

"So I wouldn't…caught off guard? You moved across the country! You had a new girlfriend! And you're on my porch at…" she glanced at her watch, pressing the button to illuminate the face before continuing "2 in the morning. Even though I clearly wasn't home. What on earth are you thinking?"

"I just wanted to see you. I'm sorry, by the way, about the Chief thing. I was rooting for you."

"Fritz. Thank you, for letting me know. And for wanting to tell me yourself. And for stopping by, and offering your condolences on my failed run for Chief. Now I have to go inside and get changed, so that I can go see Lieutenant Flynn before _that__woman_ ruins my whole case. Good night." She turned to the door, and raised the key to the lock.

"That woman, Brenda Leigh? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were back to hating her. I thought…"

"Good night, Fritz." Brenda bumped the door with her hip as she turned the key, and stepped in to her house. She turned the porch light on, and looked back at the man on the other side of the screen. He looked tired, she thought. "Fritz? I'm only stopping in for a minute to change clothes. You look awful. If you want to sleep in the guest room, that's fine for tonight. Just for tonight, you understand?" She pushed the screen open, and stepped back as he moved to enter.

"Thanks. I hadn't gotten around to getting a hotel room, my plane got in late, and I wanted to come here first."

"Yes, so you said. Stay down here while I change, all right?"

"Sure thing." He walked to the couch, flopping down in a move as familiar as breathing. Brenda felt her heart hitch just a little bit, but she shook it off, and went up the stairs. She forewent the shower, applying Clinique liberally, in the hopes of covering any lingering evidence. She tucked herself into a floral skirt, and pastel blouse, and added a blazer in a sudden fit of defiance. Sharon might be able to walk away from her without so much as a how do you do, but Brenda would be damned if she'd change any more. She shoved her feet into a pair of beige kitten heels, and grabbed her lipstick, applying it with a little more force than normal. Honestly. That man, showing up on her doorstep. At this hour. Thank God this was LA, and not Atlanta. The neighbors! She scowled at her reflection, and the bags under her eyes, then turned and clicked off the light, and closed the door to the master bedroom. She stormed down the steps, and took a deep breath, ready to give Fritz a piece of her mind, but in the dim glow of the lamp, she could see that he'd fallen asleep, his face slack and peaceful, his 6 foot frame hanging haphazardly over the arms of the couch. She sighed, a deep, soul wracking sigh.

"Oh, for heaven's sake." She grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, and tucked it around him, pulling his shoes off, and setting them aside. He stirred, but didn't wake, and she smoothed her hand over his tousled hair, as he smiled in his sleep. She crept to the door, and shouldered her tote, exiting silently. In the car, she let her forehead rest on the steering wheel for a moment. Things had been so CLEAR yesterday. Now all she felt was a vague sense of unease, like the moorings she'd depended on had snapped, leaving her adrift. Still, one of her team was injured, and she needed to handle her business. So she keyed the ignition, and pulled out into the street, trying to ignore the subtle notes of orange beneath the spice of her own perfume.


	55. Chapter 55

Andy looked just awful. Brenda knew that he'd be a bear, all laid up like this, but she hadn't expected him to look so weak. She laid her hand on his shoulder, and put what she hoped was a reassuring smile on her face.

"How you feelin, Lieutenant?" She asked softly.

"Like I've been a few rounds with a prize fighter, Chief, but you should see the other guy." He chuckled, then winced, moving his hand to cradle his ribs.

"Can you just, quick like a bunny, run through the events of what happened for me?"

"Yeah. Yeah sure." He shifted, sitting up a bit, and launched into his statement a second time. As he finished, Brenda's brain was already churning.

"M'kay. I'll need the sign in sheet for the meeting, and then…"

"Chief." Andy interrupted. "It's alcoholics _anonymous_. There is no sign in sheet."

"Oh. Well of course. That's frustrating." She tapped her finger against her lips.

The contemplative moment was broken by the arrival of a brightly colored maternity balloon, and a sheepish looking Provenza, followed closely by an exasperated Gabriel.

"What?" Provenza groused. "It's the only one they had."

Brenda hid her grin behind her hand, and turned back to Andy.

"So, I'll have the department send over a sketch artist, but in the meantime, you get some rest."

"That may not be necessary, Chief." The amber tones of Sharon's voice slid through Brenda like brandy. "I have what I believe is a photo of the attacker."

"Well for heaven's sake, show him!" Brenda sounded slightly more irritated than she meant to.

Sharon held out her phone, but then snatched it back into her body with a sideways glance at Brenda. She cleared her throat, and spoke again.

"You should know, Lieutenant, that if you positively identify this man as your attacker, this case becomes an FID case. However, if you are not sure, then this remains a Major Crime, until such time as you, or the department, can officially determine the identity of the man in this photo. Is that clear?"

Andy frowned, clearly baffled by this unexpected bending of the otherwise rigid woman. He flicked his eyes towards his Chief, and she nodded slightly.

"Understood, Captain. May I see the photo now?" His voice was ragged, evidence of the cracked ribs, and the pain they were causing.

Sharon held out the phone, stepping next to Brenda so that Flynn wouldn't have to stretch to see the screen. She watched as his eyes widened in clear recognition, then nodded as he schooled his features into a neutral expression.

"You know, it was dark, and it's hard to say. It might be him, but I just can't say for certain, Captain. I'm sorry." Flynn hedged.

Sharon put her hand over Andy's, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"That's just fine, Lieutenant. We're so glad you're okay. You just focus on getting better, okay?" She moved away, mourning the absence of Brenda's heat against her arm.

"Hey, thanks Captain. Appreciate you coming as fast as you did, too. And for calling the bus for me. Good looking out." He tried a smile, but the effort fell short.

"I have to get back to the station, now. Take care." Sharon nodded at Provenza and Gabriel, and held Brenda's gaze for a beat longer than was appropriate, then clicked towards the door.

"Actually, I have to be going, too. Andy, you get some rest. I mean it, that's an order, okay?" Brenda patted him on the shoulder as she turned to follow the Captain. She glanced at Provenza and Gabriel, and smiled. "Don't wear him out, fellas. He's got some significant damage to recover from."

"Roger that, Chief." Provenza rasped, a quick smile flashing over his features. Gabriel nodded, and Brenda tossed off a quick wave, and pushed through the door. Sharon was leaning against the wall just outside.

"Captain." Brenda said coolly as she headed for the elevator.

"Brenda. We should probably talk, before we get back to the station." Sharon dreaded the news she was going to have to deliver.

"I have a case to work, so our personal life is going to have to wait, all right? One of my team just got his cage rattled but good, and I'm damned if I'm going to sit around and talk about my feelings instead of bringing that to justice."

"I understand, Chief. However, what we need to discuss is relevant to work, and to the case." Sharon tried to keep the hurt from seeping into her tone, as they reached the bank of elevators.

Brenda jabbed the down arrow furiously, and spun to face Sharon.

"Fine. Shoot."

"I went in to begin the paperwork, as this is an OIS, and I needed to get a signature from Pope. I went to his office, and he was in a meeting." She paused to take a breath, and barreled forward. "The meeting was with Delk, obviously, but Agent Howard was also there. It seems he's been reinstated as Liaison for the FBI and LAPD."

"Is that all?" Brenda stepped into the elevator, turning as Sharon followed closely behind.

"Did you know, that he was coming back?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

"I'd hope that we'd discuss something like that, yes." Sharon frowned a bit.

"Like you discussed one of my officers being viciously attacked in the middle of the night? Like that?" Brenda heard her accent deepen, a linguistic quirk that evidenced her anger.

"Brenda. If I had woken you, would you have come with me? To the scene?" Sharon modulated her tone, cool, professional.

"Of course! That's my Lieutenant! How could I not go to him, if he's injured?"

"Exactly. How could you not? But don't you see? _You _hadn't been notified yet. I had. So if you arrived with me, it would set the rumor mill into action. That would get back to Pope at least, and very probably Delk."

"So? Delk already knows we're involved." Brenda huffed.

"But, Pope does not. And as this is both a Major Crime and an OIS, we can't let the perception of our relationship affect the case, you understand? If it looks like I'm clearing Andy because I'm sleeping with his boss, how will that reflect on him?"

Brenda sighed. Of course she was right. She rubbed her hands over her face, as the doors binged open to the parking garage. She held an arm in front of the door sensor, and gestured to Sharon with the other.

"After you, Cap'n?" she smiled cheekily. And then laughed out loud as Sharon put an exaggerated sway in her hips as she stepped off the elevator. Brenda knew she'd have to offer a proper apology later, but at least for right now, things were okay.


	56. Chapter 56

Driving to the station, Brenda wondered about Sharon's actions in the hospital. Rules, more than almost anything, defined Sharon. So had she compromised herself because she thought it would soften Brenda's ire? That seemed unlikely. So there had to be something else, but Brenda couldn't pin it down in the short distance between the hospital and the department. Entering her office, she walked past the coat rack and tossed her bag and blazer on the table, then flopped into her chair. She reached for a file on the corner of her desk, and thumbed it open, pressing her fingers to her temple as she read.

The sound of her door opening, accompanied by a soft knock had her glancing up and smiling, expecting Sharon. Her face fell a bit, as Fritz stepped over the threshold into her office.

"Fritz. I'm in the middle of something right now." She hoped to head him off.

"I know, I heard about Andy. I'm glad he's basically okay, all things considered."

"Mmm. Thanks. What can I do for you?"

"Have you heard anything about the restructuring that Delk is considering?"

"Have I heard about…no! The man just got appointed yesterday. What on earth could he have decided in 24 hours?"

"Word around the coffee machine is, Pope is out, and you're in as assistant Chief." Fritz grinned broadly.

"What?! That's just… That's ridiculous, Fritz. Pope is much more politically minded, he's excellent at his job, and I won't be the one to take it from him."

"Technically, that's true. Delk would be taking it from him, and giving it to you."

"Well, I'll return it. I'm happy right here in Major Crimes."

"Really? Because it seems to me that you sent me to DC because you wanted to be Chief of the entire department, Brenda Leigh."

"I thought I owed it to female officers to give it a shot. But if I had to pick, I'd rather stay just where I am."

"Owed it to…that doesn't sound like you at all. That sounds like Captain Raydor. Is she the one who put the idea in your head?" The smile finally slipped off of Fritz's face.

"You know what? I do not have time for this right now. I have to go talk to my squad." She shoved her chair back with more force than was strictly necessary, and stalked to the door. "And I'll have you know, I am a big girl, Fritz, and I make my own choices. I chose to end our marriage, I chose to apply for Chief of the LAPD, and I chose to shoot a man the day before the selection was to be announced. I make my own choices. I stand by my choices. They're choices, Fritzi, but they haven't been mistakes. If you'll excuse me, now." She pushed past him, and waved at Provenza, giving him the nod to start preparing for the briefing. She heard the soft thuds of Fritz's loafers as he strode down the hall, towards Pope's office. Shrugging her shoulders to shake away the tension, she turned her focus on Provenza, and the case at hand.

That evening, Brenda sat at her desk, staring at the files that had closed this case for her. Witness tampering. Of all the ridiculous ideas. And Sharon hadn't bothered to let her in on this, either, just like she'd chosen not to tell Brenda about Andy's late night phone call. On the other hand, she _had _given Andy the chance to defer identifying his attacker. And they'd agreed, sort of, to keep their work separate from what they were doing outside of the job. Still, Brenda couldn't help the tendril of frustration that curled through her stomach as she glared at Rick Zuman's file. Maybe she'd just go home tonight, and give herself a break from Sharon, and from Fritz. They'd been awfully chummy during the bust at the bus station. Brenda rolled her eyes. That was all she needed, those two commiserating about how hard she was to be with. She shoved her chair back, and grabbed her bag, fishing her keys out as she stalked towards the elevators.

She let herself in the house, kicking off her heels with a groan. Joel wrapped himself around her ankles, mewing piteously.

"I know, kitty. I'm going to feed you in a minute." She leaned down, and scratched his head. In the kitchen, she poured some dry food into his dish, and a tall glass of merlot for herself. She gave the fridge a baleful glance, as her stomach rumbled. She pulled open the door, and peered at the contents. There was a wilted head of lettuce, and some yogurt long past it's prime. She yanked open the freezer, and pulled out a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream. She wandered back into the living room, setting down her spoils, and reached back, unhooking her bra, and pulling it off through her sleeve. She plopped down on the sofa, and turned on the TV. It was tuned to the news station Fritz watched in the mornings, he must've had it on this morning. She watched as a cheery blonde recounted the amazing cooperation between the FBI and the LAPD in cracking a remarkable case full of mystery and intrigue! Brenda snorted, and spooned up some ice cream.

At 8:30, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, and saw Sharon's name flashing. She hit the ignore button. A moment later, the phone rang again. Sharon, again. She hit ignore, again. Then, her doorbell rang. She raised an eyebrow, and padded to the door, pulling it open, revealing a scowling Captain on her doorstep.

"I assume your phone is off, and that's why I'm getting your voicemail."

"Sharon. I just…today was such a long day. And I needed some time to process." Brenda stepped back, allowing Sharon some space to enter.

"Is this about last night? About me not waking you? Because I thought I'd explained myself quite clearly." Sharon moved into the entryway.

"You did, about that. It doesn't mean I like having decisions made for me. But I understand it. I don't like it. I also don't like being surprised at work. I know that you have rules in FID, but Sharon, the witness tampering investigation against Andy…that knocked me for another loop." Brenda shut the door behind Sharon, and headed back to the sofa, tucking her feet beneath her.

"Brenda. We spoke about this, at length the other night. I can't compromise my investigations. Rather, I won't. And I'd hope that you wouldn't ask me to." Sharon perched at the edge of a cushion.

"Of course I wouldn't ask you to compromise your investigations, for heaven's sake! But some sort of head's up would have been nice. I hate not knowing things, Sharon. You know that. It just all sort of hit me, and then that awful Tommy Delk, talking about giving me Pope's job. I needed some time, is all." Brenda sipped her wine, and straightened her skirt.

"I'll go, then. I just wanted…to make sure you were all right. With Fritz being back, and everything, I wasn't sure…" Sharon trailed off, and stood.

"Wait. Wait. Sit back down a bit. Let me get you a glass of wine, or something." Brenda laid her hand on Sharon's arm, pulling her back to the couch.

"It's fine, Brenda. I'll just be on my way. You're tired, I'm tired, and I haven't been home yet. So I'll see you tomorrow."

Brenda set her glass down on the table, and threw a leg over Sharon's lap, pinning her to the cushion. She wriggled herself into position, straddling the infuriating Captain, and stopped the conversation with a kiss. Sharon responded slowly, and Brenda let her hands trail the length of Sharon's arms, tangling their hands together. The softness of Sharon's lips was Brenda's undoing, and all the irritation of the day flowed away, as she traced their contours with her tongue. Sharon opened to her, and the touch was electric, sending jolts through Brenda's body as Sharon mapped Brenda's mouth. Reluctantly, Brenda pulled back from the kiss.

"Stay with me tonight?"

"If you're sure, Brenda." Sharon's voice was low with arousal.

"I'm sure." Brenda replied, bringing their lips together once more.

**author's note**

So, it's been 8 months. Not in the least because I am a terriblely attention deficit person. But also because I couldn't find a transcript of Old Money. And I'm too lazy to do my own transcription. So this chapter is just yanking the story along, so that I can move into the better territory of the Christmas episodes. And of course, moar smexytiemz.


	57. Chapter 57

There was something intoxicating about kissing Sharon, the dark flavor of her rushed through Brenda's veins like the richest chocolate. Sharon brought her hand up to caress Brenda's back, pulling her close, as their tongues slid together, and Brenda whimpered.

"You had me concerned today, Brenda." Sharon whispered as she trailed her lips along Brenda's jaw.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was angry, Sharon, and I'm not sorry about that, but the way I behaved…" Brenda trailed off, leaning their foreheads together.

"Yes, well. Your behavior." Sharon nipped at the tender skin on Brenda's collar bone. "Your behavior was terrible." She licked up the column of Brenda's throat, humming contentedly at the salty sweet taste of her lover. "You really ought to face some corrective discipline for behaving so poorly."

Brenda blinked at Sharon, as the woman let that infuriating smirk creep across her lips, bringing her hand around to thumb Brenda's nipple through the thin material of her t-shirt.

"What, exactly, are you saying, Cap'n?" Brenda wondered, as Sharon followed her hand with her mouth, tonguing through cotton, and sending tendrils of heat spiraling through Brenda's belly.

"I'm saying, what are we going to do with you, Chief?" her teeth grazed at Brenda's nipple, causing the blond woman to hiss and writhe against her.

"I think…" Brenda spoke breathlessly as the Captain stripped her of her shirt, flicking her tongue over warm skin, puckered in the chill of the air. "I think whatever you're doing is working." She arched her back, wanting to be as close to Sharon as possible.

Sharon slid that horrible skirt up, bunching it at Brenda's waist. She slipped her thumb under Brenda's panties, pushing into all that wet heat, as Brenda cried out. Sharon sucked hard on the nipple in her mouth, and used her free hand to palm the neglected breast, as she moved her thumb slickly through Brenda's folds.

"You're so wet, Brenda." She murmured against Brenda's chest. "I love how you feel on my fingers, like this." She slipped two fingers inside as she spoke, scissoring them a bit.

Brenda moaned, rocking down onto Sharon's talented hand, tangling her hands in the wild auburn locks, and pulling her into another kiss. Sharon licked into Brenda's mouth, and sucked on her tongue, then nibbled at her lower lip, then peppering kisses down over her shoulders, dipping her tongue into the valley between Brenda's breasts, sucking at the skin where marks wouldn't be seen. Brenda cried out at the onslaught of sensation, Sharon's hand on her hip, guiding her, those sinful fingers touching that spot, the bump of her thumb against Brenda's tender bud, the heat of her mouth everywhere at once, and the sound of her voice as she growled low, claiming Brenda.

"This is just for me…" Sharon husked, curling her fingers to brush the roughened skin inside Brenda. "I want you to come for me, Brenda. I want you to come for me, and say my name, because this…" She scissored her fingers, pressing her thumb firmly against Brenda's clit. "This is mine. Look at me."

Brenda struggled to open her eyes, her body screaming for release.

"Sharon, please…" She whispered, feeling pinned by that emerald gaze.

"We can argue. We can disagree. We can have professional differences until Taylor wears a shirt that actually matches his tie. But at the end of the day, Brenda, this is how it is. You are mine, now. So look me in the eye. And come, Brenda…" She moved her thumb in quick, tight circles, feeling the slick heat of Brenda tensing around her fingers as she slid them deeper inside. "Come now." She whispered the last, letting her tongue trace the shell of Brenda's ear.

Brenda couldn't breathe. Her entire body was bowed, the tension so immense, that she was pretty sure her toes were actually curling, as Sharon whispered in her ear. The heat of her breath and the sudden shocking feeling of Sharon sucking on her earlobe as her thumb pressed down sent Brenda careening over the edge. She sobbed Sharon's name, as her body convulsed, spasaming jerkily, bright flares of color at the edges of her vision. She could feel the gentleness of Sharon's hands, as she cradled her down from these ridiculous heights, could hear the soothing words being spoken as she sobbed and shook, but she had no idea what Sharon was actually saying at this point. Her head dropped onto Sharon's shoulder, as Sharon eased her hand from beneath Brenda's ruined panties.

She knew she ought to feel incensed at the possessive language Sharon used. But she just couldn't work up any ire, because if she was being honest with herself, she liked it. She wanted to belong to Sharon, in a way that she'd never wanted to belong to Fritz, or her ex-husband, or even Will. She trusted Sharon, though, in a way she'd never trusted any of the men in her life, save her Daddy. So she nuzzled her nose in Sharon's neck, inhaling the warm scent of her skin, and shifted so that she was no longer straddling the Captain.

"How do you always know what to say?" She yawned, relishing the sensation of Sharon's blunt nails tracing lazy shapes on her shoulder blades.

"I just tell the truth, Chief. I find that usually works for me." Sharon replied, tucking Brenda's head beneath her chin.

"I wish I could be that honest all the time." Brenda let her lips rest against the fluttering beat of Sharon's pulse point.

"You can always be honest with me." Sharon's voice went a little thick at the end.

"I know, Sharon. That's why I love you." Brenda yawned again, and rubbed at her eyes.

Sharon sat still, stunned at the declaration, however indirect. She blinked owlishly at Brenda, who seemed oblivious to the havoc she'd wrought with that tiny sentence. Then she broke into a full grin, and chuckled, causing Brenda to glance up at her.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Chief. I just…was thinking we should go to bed." Sharon whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to Brenda's temple, before sliding her off of her lap.

"Best idea you've had all day." Brenda stood, stretching.

After turning off the lights, and giving Joel a little kibble, Brenda followed Sharon upstairs, and found her in bed already. She brushed her teeth, and pulled off her skirt and panties, replacing them with an oversized tee-shirt. As she crawled into bed, she noticed that Sharon was also wearing one of her tee-shirts. Brenda curled into her side.

"G'night Sharon." She murmured, her eyes already drifting shut.

"Good night, Brenda." Sharon replied. She listened as the Chief's breathing evened out. She listened to the hum of traffic from the highway. She stared at the ceiling for a while. And then she whispered, "I love you too."


	58. Chapter 58

They shared a small turkey breast over Thanksgiving, and Brenda surprised Sharon with a sweet potato pie that was buttery smooth, and held hints of nutmeg and vanilla. Sharon surprised Brenda by retiring to the couch once the leftovers were wrapped and the dishes rinsed, and turning on…a football game?

"Really? Football?" Brenda's nose wrinkled just a bit.

"It's a time-honored tradition. Besides, the Steelers are playing." Sharon replied, as though that explained everything.

"You'll have to remind me of the rules. I haven't watched a game since I was a cheerleader in high school."

Sharon snorted over her beer, quirking an eyebrow at Brenda.

"You were a cheerleader?"

"I was. I was Captain, in fact." She tossed her hair haughtily, and sipped at her wine.

Sharon focused on the tv for a moment, and Brenda caught the hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. Just as she took a breath to mention it, Sharon threw her hands up and groaned. Brenda's wine sloshed dangerously in the glass, and she held it out a bit, hoping to save the light tones of Sharon's sofa from a permanent tint.

"What on earth, Sharon?"

"What…who was Big Ben throwing to? I swear, my GRANDMOTHER could pass better!" Sharon growled, taking a pull on her beer.

"Your grandmother played football?" Brenda couldn't keep the mirth from her voice.

"Well. No. But that's the point, isn't it? He's terrible! And don't get me started on his reputation for sexually assaulting women. How they let him play is beyond me."

"Want me to go arrest him?" Brenda laid her legs across Sharon's lap, and settled back into the cushion.

"Would that you could. He's such a…go! GO! YES! He's such a predator. There've been more than a few accusations, but clearly, he's part Teflon. It doesn't help that the mayor of that city is a 12 year old with hero issues."

Brenda nodded, but she felt pleasantly full, and the wine and the turkey were combining in what she thought taking an entire Xanax might feel like. She watched the tiny men on the screen, deciphering that the Steelers were in the bright yellow and black uniforms, and she decided she'd watch the little man with the giant hair peeking out from beneath his helmet. Sharon told her his name, which sounded like it might be Hawaiian, but Brenda couldn't be sure. She set her wine glass aside, and swung around so that her head rested on Sharon's thigh. Sharon reached back and pulled a sand-colored throw down over Brenda's shoulders, absently tucking it in around her. The action was so tender, that Brenda felt an unexpected lump in her throat.

"This is nice." She murmured, running her hand down the length of Sharon's shin, caressing the bare skin of her ankle beneath the hem of her jeans.

"It is. I'm glad you agreed to come over. I wasn't sure how you felt about holidays."

"Mmm. Normally I'm working. You know how it is, people get a little whiskey in them, and the turkey legs start flying. But I had a bit of PTO built up, so I took a day. They won't call for me unless it is well and truly unavoidable."

"You took the day? Brenda! I had no idea." Sharon thought back, wondering if she'd ever heard of Brenda taking time off before.

"Didn't want to interrupt our first holiday together. S'not a big deal."

Just then, Brenda's cell rang. Sighing, she sat up, muttering to herself. She hooked her bag with her toe, and dragged it closer, rummaging for her phone and answering it with a terse "Johnson".

Sharon smiled, knowing that if Brenda was being called in, there would be hell to pay for whoever was on the other end of the phone. She turned her attention back to the TV, bringing her beer to her lips.

"Oh! Hey mama! What a lovely surprise!" Brenda's voice was preternaturally bright, and Sharon nearly spat her beer across the room. Brenda waved a hand at her, and gestured for her to be quiet.

"Happy Thanksgiving to you, too. How are you and Daddy?" She curled up on the cushion again, and reached for her wine.

"Oh, just fine. Mmmmhmm. How's Charlie?"

Sharon wondered at the warmth suffusing Brenda's tone at the mention of her erstwhile niece. She bit back a groan as the Steelers threw another interception.

"We're good. Oh. He's ummm, on an out of town assignment. I'm having dinner with a friend."

Sharon swing her head around to stare at Brenda. Brenda had the grace to be blushing.

"Mama! 'Course I have friends!" Brenda scowled at the phone. "In fact, I'm bein' rude, so I'm going to get off the phone now. Tell Daddy I love him! I love you!" She made an odd kissy sound into the phone before hanging up.

"Am I to assume your parents aren't aware that you and Agent Howard are no longer a couple?" Sharon asked, her tone low and serious.

"Well for heaven's sakes, it's not like I talk to them all that often. And I thought…I thought maybe I could hold off on that for a bit. They're very traditional. When Fritz…when he and I moved in together, he wasn't allowed to answer the phone in case it was my Daddy. Cuz we weren't married, yet, you see?" Brenda twisted the wine glass in her hand.

"You…how long did that deception go on? As I recall, you were with Agent Howard for some time before the wedding." Sharon tried to imagine lying to her parents at her age.

"Ohh…a while. We got caught, of course. Daddy was none too pleased, but he got over it. Fritz went to the shooting range with him. I was terrified they were both going to come home riddled with buckshot."

"Buckshot?! At a shooting range. In Los Angeles." Sharon shook her head. "I suppose I can't expect you to be out, just because I'm out."

"Sharon, I'm going to tell them. I'd rather do it face to face. Maybe around Christmastime. They're supposed to come visit. Too bad you're going to go ski, or whatever it is you Yanks do when you go to those cold states up there."

Sharon let a smile escape, as she pulled Brenda closer. "I'll teach you how to ski. You never know, you might like it!"

"I had quite enough snow when I was in DC. I won't go seeking it out. That's insanity!" Brenda exaggerated a shiver. "So cold and wet."

"Mmmm." Sharon hummed. "But then there's the lodge, with the fire, where you could be warm," she paused, trailing a finger along Brenda's collar bone, "and wet."

Brenda swallowed convulsively. "Captain Raydor…are you trying to seduce me?"

"Is it working, Chief Johnson?" Her voice had that rasp that sent heat straight to Brenda's spine.

She leaned into Sharon's arms, settling their bodies flush, and capturing her lips with a kiss.

"It's working just fine." She murmured, before deepening the kiss with a slow swipe of her tongue.


	59. Chapter 59

To be fair, Sharon hadn't expected things to really change at work. Still, she couldn't help feeling slightly exasperated when Brenda tried to pawn the mall case off on her. The look that the chief gave her when she said they'd take the case _together_ caused a tendril of arousal to snake around the base of her spine, and she knew her arguments were no more good. She spun on her heel and stalked off to fetch the dash cam from the offending patrol car.

Brenda was hyperaware of Sharon's agitation as they sat across from Mr. Marku. She figured it was a combination of irritation at her, and also at the officers involved in the case. Apparently those interviews hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped. Selfishly, Brenda was kind of glad she was sticking around for a little bit. It was nice to have another person who wasn't wearing a santa hat or a dreadful holiday sweater. She turned her attention back to the victim.

"Why else besides a robbery would someone want to kill you over Christmas presents?" Brenda wondered if she'd missed something during her ruminations.

"Because he's Muslim." Marku replied.

"So…you recognized him?"

"Yes. He was my father." He looked down at the table as he answered.

Sharon's eyes went wide, before she schooled her expression, and jotted that little tidbit down in her notebook. She glanced surreptitiously at her watch. She might be able to leave in time to make her flight after all. But then Marku spoke again, in response to a question Brenda asked.

"It's a long story," He said, leaning back in his chair and placing his bandaged hand on the table, "Do you want the version which starts in the 14th century, or today?"

"In the interest of time, just go back as far as necessary, okay?" Sharon's voice was smooth, belying none of the tense energy Brenda could feel vibrating off of her.

As Armand Marku told his story, Sharon wondered if Brenda was thinking about her own parents, and how they might react. She saw Brenda's face fall in sympathy when the victim explained that his father had disowned him, declared him dead, even, because he'd fallen in love with a Christian woman. Zealotry came in all flavors, and Sharon dearly hoped Brenda's parents wouldn't fall under that unfortunate blanket. She blinked back the threat of tears when he mentioned dreaming of reuniting with his father. Her relationship with her own family was complicated, but her parents loved her, and she felt secure in that knowledge. The hardest parts were over with them. And even though her kids drove her crazy sometimes, she couldn't imagine them doing anything—anything!—to enrage her to the point of attempted murder. The whole situation was awful. Sharon did the only thing she could do for the man. She took copious notes.

Gabriel met them outside of the interview room, and Brenda gave him his orders, despite his brief temper fit. Sharon rolled her eyes. Italy was overrated anyway, and what was a grown man doing letting his parents _take_ him anywhere? Honestly. She knew Brenda credited Gabriel with setting her on the right track in terms of their relationship, but Sharon found him tedious at best. Her phone chirped, and she tapped open the email from the airlines.

"They want $700 to change my flight. Can we move this along?" She directed her ire at Gabriel, who sheepishly took the notes she handed him, and went off with a pout.

Sanchez caught up with them as they walked down the hall, and Sharon barely stifled the snort of laughter at his ridiculous elf hat. How Major Crimes ever got anything done was a mystery tempered only by the brusque nature of their Chief.

"Here's the summary of the witness statements," He said, handing over a folder. "They all say the same thing: The old guy was trying to stab the younger guy when the police car ran him over."

"Thank you, Detective Sanchez." Brenda replied, and then looked up. "Nice hat." She turned to Sharon, and smiled. "See? Told you this wouldn't take more than 72 hours. Don't change your flight just yet."

"Oh, and Chief?" Sanchez called out over his shoulder. "Your parents are in the murder room."

"What?! Oh, for heaven's sake!" Brenda's face went ashen, and she abruptly switched directions.

"Chief!" Sharon called out, wondering how, exactly, they were supposed to play this. Brenda just kept walking. So Sharon took a deep breath, counted to 15 in French, and followed behind.

"Mama! Daddy!" Brenda hugged each of her parents in turn. "I'm so sorry I couldn't meet you at the airport like we planned, but you know how it is. I thought y'all were going to the house?" She dared a glance at Fritz, who looked pained, but gave her a rueful grin.

"Don't you even worry your pretty little head about it!" Clay smiled.

"That's right. Everyone here has made us feel right welcome!" Willie Rae chimed in.

Sharon stood just outside the family circle, uneasy without some guidance on how she was supposed to behave. She settled on consummately professional.

"Chief Johnson?"

Brenda looked over at her, and a faint pink tinge graced her cheeks.

"Oh, right. Mama, Daddy, this is my Captain Raydor." Brenda blinked twice at her parents, before her mistake registered. "I…I mean my, my friend. Captain Sharon." She resisted the urge to stomp her foot when Fritz cracked a smirk at her second misstep. She sighed. "I mean, my friend, Sharon Raydor." Her voice cracked just a little on the word friend.

Sharon had the grace to look horrified, and Brenda's cheeks were flaming. She fully expected her parents to demand the truth, after all, her ability to suss out a liar was genetic, but to her surprise, they were both smiling, despite looking a little gobsmacked. Clay broke the silence.

"Friend!" He boomed, shaking Sharon's hand enthusiastically. "We have been waiting to meet one of Brenda Leigh's friends since she graduated from _high school!_"

Sharon put her hand over his, to stop the excessive motion, and smiled weakly.

"Well. Here I am."

"Wait a minute, Clay." Willie Rae stepped closer, her eyes shrewd. "Did you say Captain? As in you _work_ here?"

"Yes, that's right Mrs. Johnson." Sharon replied, shifting uncomfortably in her heels.

"I see." Willie Rae gave Clay a pointed look. "Her friend _works_ here." She held out her hand to Sharon. "Please, call me Willie Rae. Any _friend_ of Brenda's is a friend of mine."

"Okay, then…Willie Rae." Sharon smiled til her cheeks ached.

"Your parents have something to tell you, Brenda Leigh." Fritz cleared his throat, giving her a poisoned stare. "It's very exciting news." He clapped his hand on Clay's shoulder.

"Is that right? What is it?" Brenda kept a smile on her face, despite the overwhelming urge to grab Sharon's hand and run—or throw up.

Just then Gabriel barreled into to the murder room.

"Found the dad's place. It's just west of here. Who do you want to send?" He asked, breathlessly.

"FLYNN!" Came the choral reply of every elven Major Crimes employee.

"All right, Flynn, you and Detective Gabriel go see if you can find anything; a…a suicide note, or anything that might explain why he tried to stab his son to death." Brenda turned back to her parents, just as Sharon touched her arm. "Sorry, Mama, Daddy, but Captain Raydor…I mean, Sharon and I need to go…"

"That's all right, Brenda. You and your _friend_ go ahead. Your mama and I will be just fine." Clay bussed her cheek.

"Y'all aren't irritated?"

"Not at all! We have all the time in the world to catch up!" Willie Rae kissed her other cheek, and patted her arm.

"Allll the time." Fritz intoned, giving Brenda another withering stare.

Brenda let Sharon pull her away, her head still reeling from that Twilight Zone encounter.


	60. Chapter 60

"Are you kidding me?" Sharon tried to keep her voice even as she stalked ahead of Brenda.

"I said I'm sorry, Sharon. I thought you'd be in Park City, and Fritz would be at his apartment, and I'd be able to tell them the truth in person! Without witnesses, so that if they keel over and die from heart failure it won't be murder, really." Brenda ducked into a conference room and pulled Sharon in by the tail of her blazer.

"They still think you're with him! That nothing has happened! That he was away on assignment?! And now he's back! And you've let them think that. And HE has apparently let them think that. And don't get me started on what I think THAT means, because, I might have to then investigate myself for use of force against a federal agent. Jesus, Brenda. This is beyond farcical, you realize that, right?" Sharon bumped the door to the conference room closed with her hip, and then leaned against it, sighing.

"I will fix it. But first, we have to solve this case, and get you on your $700 flight to Park City, and then I will handle my parents, and by the time you come to kiss me on New Year's Eve, I will be out and proud, Portia to your Ellen, and all that. Just stop looking at me like that! I can't stand it when you're mad at me." She stepped closer to Sharon, reaching out to take her hand.

Sharon closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around Brenda. The effect the younger woman had on her blood pressure was probably not healthy, not with regards to arousal or anger, both of which Sharon was feeling in fairly equal portion. It had been so long since Brenda had really pushed her buttons that she'd forgotten how quickly the line between blinding irritation, and all-consuming lust could blur. The heat of Brenda's body against hers was clouding her better judgment. All she wanted to do was shove her hands under that awful floral skirt, and let her fingers remind Brenda just who she belonged to, despite what her parents might think. Her breathing hitched, as Brenda pressed her lips gently to her collarbone.

Sharon thumbed the lock on the door, and grabbed Brenda by the hips, propelling her towards the table in the center of the room. She lifted Brenda up onto the table, catching her lips in a searing kiss, as she stepped between those ridiculously toned thighs. Brenda gasped, and moaned into the kiss, her hands finding their way into Sharon's hair, her nails scraping bluntly at her scalp. Sharon fisted the material of Brenda's skirt, shoving it mercilessly out of the way, and trailed her fingers roughly along smooth skin.

"You can't just pretend that we're not real, Brenda." Sharon nipped at the skin of Brenda's throat as she spoke. "You can't pretend that we don't exist because it's inconvenient, or it might make people uncomfortable." She slipped her hand beneath the damp triangle of cloth, teasing at curls.

"I know. I know, you're right. You're absolutely right, Sharon." Brenda replied, canting her hips towards the fingers that tormented relentlessly.

Sharon cupped the back of Brenda's head with her free hand, crushing their lips together, the whimper escaping unbidden as her tongue swept into Brenda's humid mouth. The lingering flavor of gingerbread and coffee mixed with the unique taste of Brenda, and Sharon felt like a starving woman at a buffet, as she nibbled and sucked at the generous mouth beneath hers. Brenda's hands fell to Sharon's shoulders, pulling their bodies closer as she thrust herself onto questing fingers, groaning as they slid home effortlessly.

"Jesus, Sharon…" Brenda gasped as Sharon pressed a third finger in, subtly shifting her thumb across the exposed bundle of nerves.

"You belong to me." Sharon's voice was raspy, as she pistoned her hand between Brenda's thighs. "I don't share. I go first, except when I'm letting you go first, because I love you. But I do. Not. Share." She punctuated her words with expert twists of her wrist, and Brenda felt the waves rising from the small of her back.

"Yes. Yes, I am all yours, Sharon. All yours. Always…Oh, god. Always." Brenda clenched down on the three fingers that were pressing against that spot that only Sharon could find, and colors exploded behind her eyes, a rhythmic kaleidoscope, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She couldn't enjoy it though, wouldn't allow herself to be boneless, limpid and satisfied, not when every fiber of her needed to be inside Sharon Raydor right that minute. She slid off the table, gracelessly, her legs not quite ready to hold her weight, and pushed the fabric of Sharon's skirt up, scrabbling at her panties, before tugging them down. She closed her mouth over Sharon's sex, swiping her tongue along the entire length, gathering all the evidence she needed to prove that she wasn't alone in this. She drove her tongue inside, the sound of Sharon breathing rapidly through her nose made her ache, as though she hadn't just been thoroughly debauched.

She licked, and sucked, and tasted, and when she felt Sharon start to tremble, she slipped two fingers deep inside, twisting them, as she slid her tongue over and over and over the tiny pearl, relishing the tug of Sharon's hands in her hair, and the heat of her thighs, and the overwhelming scent of her sex, their sex, mingling, and she groaned, the sound vibrating through Sharon like church bells, and suddenly Sharon was taut around her fingers, a throbbing tension that broke with a muffled shriek, and Brenda slowed her movements, bringing her lover down gently, before standing, and drawing her into a kiss that belied the earlier fervor and urgency with its slow, easy pace.

"I'm going to tell them tonight. I promise. I don't want to lose this…you…no matter what." Brenda whispered into Sharon's neck, her words muffled by the kisses she was pressing to the sweat damp skin there.

"Tonight. And before that, we've got a case to solve, and I've got a plane to catch. So we should probably get moving." Sharon leaned drowsily against the table; Brenda nestled into her body, nodded in agreement.

"I don't know how you expect me to think critically after something like that. You might have to go rescue Provenza from all that elfy stuff, and solve the case with him. Wouldn't that be something? Cap'n Raydor, head of Major Crimes, Christmas Division."

"Oh please. This band of n'er-do-wells would sooner transfer to traffic in Pasadena, than be under my command. Provenza most of all. Come on. You look like you've gone a few rounds, your mascara is frightful, and I'm pretty sure I left a hickey just here, so you'll need to button one more button." Sharon smirked, as Brenda rolled her eyes and buttoned her shirt.

"You are just awful! Hickeys, like we're in junior high!" Brenda groused.

"As a point of fact, I was a sophomore in high school before I gave or received a hickey. I thought it was us Yanks who were supposed to be women of loose morals. What sort of shenanigans were you getting up to in the 8th grade, Chief?" Sharon tugged her hair back into a loose bun, and ran a tissue under her eyes and around her lips as she spoke.

"Cap'n, could you just do me one teensy favor, pretty please? Could you just hush? That'd be great. Thank you so much." Brenda smiled sweetly, and dropped a final kiss on Sharon's lips as she swept out the door, hoping beyond hope that her clothes were properly sorted, and her lipstick wasn't too terribly smudged.


	61. Chapter 61

Brenda stifled a shriek as she was yanked into the hall gruffly. She stared up into the fierce glare of her ex; or soon-to-be ex-husband.

"What on earth, Fritz?" She hissed, snatching her wrist from his grasp.

"You want to tell me why your parents don't know that I've moved out?" He growled in response.

"Well, it just hasn't come up. I was going to tell them over the holidays, face to face."

"So they don't know about Sharon, either?" He pressed.

"Fritz. If I didn't tell them we were separated, I certainly didn't mention my…" she trailed off.

"Your _girlfriend_?" He sneered.

"Well, that doesn't seem serious enough to describe it, but yes. I suppose that'll have to do. I haven't told my parents about my girlfriend yet." She turned to walk away, and then turned back. "But I'll be telling them tonight. So please don't think that you 'covering' for me means anything. I appreciate it, but it won't be necessary beyond this evening." She stalked off down the hall, tossing her hair behind her.

~~~LATER THAT DAY~~~~

Brenda blinked owlishly at the enormous silver trailer parked in front of her house. What in the name of all the southern fried hell was this? She shut the door to her car, and shrugged the strap of her bag over her shoulder, before moving in to take a closer look. The sound of her screen door slamming shut caused her to whirl around, coming nearly nose to nose with her father.

"Daddy, you scared me! I thought y'all would be taking a nap!" She tucked her arm beneath his, and kissed his weathered cheek.

"Well, now, we're not decrepit, Brenda Leigh, just retired. Your mama and I got plenty of rest on the way here, thanks to the surprisingly comfortable bed in this here trailer." He patted the metal behemoth cheerfully.

"You slept—that's YOUR trailer?"

"It sure is! Well, we're not getting any younger, are we, and you're always so busy, and your brothers, they've got kids, and it's hard for y'all to make the trips to us, so we thought, why not come to you? We'll spend the winter months here in LA, and the summer months with Clay Jr. over in Virginia. I suppose we'll see Russell whenever he's not on the haul. Don't know why he can't get a settled job. Long distance trucking is a surefire way to get hooked on those methamphetamines what make your teeth fall out."

"Daddy! Russ still had all his teeth at the last family get together, so you hush!"

"That was 4 years ago. A lot can happen in 4 years. Your mama tells me Charlene isn't going by Charlene anymore, wants to be called Charlie, and she's hanging out with those hoodlums over by the mini-mart. You remember when you saw her? She was 12, and wanted to be just like Auntie Brenda when she grew up. Now, the rate she's going, Auntie Brenda will be bringing her in for selling smack to pre-schoolers."

"Daddy! That's enough. If mama heard you say that, you'd be spending the night in the trailer!" Brenda propelled them towards the door. "Besides, I just talked to Charlie on that Facebook last month. She's got almost all As, except for a B in Spanish, and a C in phys ed. So don't you worry about her. Let's go see what mama's making for dinner. I didn't have much to work with, I was going to go shopping, but it just slipped my mind."

"Thought your Fritz took care of the shopping. He slacking on the job?" A fierce scowl creased his face.

"No. No, it' my fault. Fritz didn't slack…" Brenda trailed off, and hauled the screen door open, gesturing Clay through first.

"Willie Rae! Look what I dragged in from the cold!" Clay boomed as he headed for the couch.

"Brenda! So glad you're home already! Christmas Eve dinner is almost done! What time will Fritz be getting here?" Willie Rae stood at the stove, whipping something in a pan as though her life depended on it. Brenda took a deep breath, and guessed garlic mashed potatoes, along with ham, of course, and greens, or maybe green bean casserole. The smells of her childhood felt somewhat out of place here, but her stomach growled loudly, and she had to admit that it had been a long time since she'd had any downhome cooking.

"Fritz won't be joining us. Mama, Daddy, I need to tell y'all something, but I don't want it to ruin Christmas, all right?" Brenda stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, so both her parents could hear her.

"What do you mean, Fritz won't be joining us? Surely the FBI gives him the occasional holiday!" Clay clicked the remote, sending whatever sports program he was watching into silence.

"A while ago, you remember I was applying to maybe be the Chief of Police? Well, at the same time, Fritz got offered a promotion, but it meant moving back to DC. And I knew he really wanted to try, but I wasn't ready to leave my job, especially not with the possibility of my own promotion. And we'd been noticing our differences more, anyway. So I told him to go on ahead without me." Brenda shuffled to the fridge, and grabbed a bottle of water.

"He was in DC for most of the year. When you'd call, I just didn't know how to tell you that we weren't together, so I just didn't mention it, and told you he was at work. Well, he was at work. But it was in Washington DC." She took a long sip, and toyed with the cap.

"But he was at the station today! He helped wrap presents." Willie Rae furrowed her brow as she greased a pie tin.

"He was at the station today, that's true. About 2 months ago, he was offered his old job back, and he took it."

"Well that's great! He's back, you're not chief, so call him up! We'll set an extra plate, and hang a little mistletoe over the front door." Willie Rae beamed.

"Well, that's the thing, mama. He's back in LA, and back as the FBI Liasion to the department, but we're not back together."

"Whyever not?" Clay's foot tapped restlessly on the carpet.

"You see, while he was away, he met a woman. And so did I." Brenda decided that fudging this little bit of the truth wouldn't be the thing that sent her to hell; but telling her parent's she'd essentially cheated just might.

"You mean you met a fella." Clay corrected, a thunderous expression crossing his face.

"Course that's what she means, Clay, don't be nitpicky, let her tell what happened." Willie Rae leaned hard on the dough she was rolling out.

"I mean, I met a woman. Y'all met her too, actually, today at the station." Her voice cracked a little on the word station, and she took another pull from the water bottle.

"You mean that nice Sharon? She helped me make marshmallow casserole for those poor dears who had to work tonight. What does she have to do with anything? You aren't having an affair with her husband, are you?" Willie Rae held the rolling pin aloft, and Brenda backed up a step, just in case.

"No ma'am. I am not having an affair with her husband. She's not married. We are, that is, she and I feel that we're, the thing is, I love her. " She closed her eyes, waiting for the outrage.

"Of course you love her. We all love our best girlfriends, Brenda! I know you haven't had many, but it's normal." Willie Rae went back to rolling out the pie crust.

"Honey, I don't think that's what Brenda Leigh means." Clay pulled a toothpick from behind his ear, and chomped down.

"No, mama, I mean, I love her, and she loves me, and we're in love." Brenda squeezed the teeth of the bottle cap into her palm.

"So, you're like Jodi Foster and that nice lady we never see?"

"Well, yes. Yes. We are."

"So, I might still get grandbabies?" Willie Rae peered closely at Brenda's face.

"Mama! Sharon's already got kids! They're old enough to give HER grandbabies!"

"So I'd have great-grandbabies, and grown grandchildren?"

"Well, I suppose, yes, that would technically be correct." Brenda tried to imagine the proper Raydor clan and her boisterous UGA loving family.

"Technically nothing. You can get gay married here. I don't care who you love, Brenda Leigh, but you will not live in sin, you understand me?" Clay's words were clipped around the toothpick clenched in his teeth.

"Daddy! Gracious! We're still courting! We've only been on a few actual dates." Brenda felt the blush all the way to her hairline.

"I expect you'll make an honest woman out of her—or she'll make one out of you, when the time is right. I know y'all have some crazy ideas about long engagements or whathaveyou, making sure you're compatible, but don't wait too long. Your mama and I aren't getting any younger, and we'd like to see you in at least one relationship that sticks."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Clay, she's been married twice! Maybe she's not the marrying sort, after all. But if I get grandbabies, or greatgrandbabies out of the deal, she can marry Kubla Khan, for all I care. Or not. Besides, that woman is the first yankee who hasn't given my marshmallow casserole a side-eye. And she didn't burn it, unlike MY OWN DAUGHTER. So let's invite her for dinner! We can still hang the mistletoe. Your daddy and I watch Rachel Maddow sometimes, when we're up that late."

Brenda was grateful for the doorjamb at her back, because she was pretty sure she'd fallen through into an alternate universe, and maybe, if she stepped one way or the other, the real world, where her Southern protestant parents watched Fox, and didn't use words like gay married, and Jodie Foster, maybe the real world would come back into focus.

A timer in the kitchen dinged, and Willie Rae pulled the ham out of the oven, and slid two pies deftly in behind it. She looked at Brenda, who still hadn't moved from her statue like pose in the doorway.

"Well, come on and help me set the table! And then call your Sharon." Willie Rae hefted the ham onto a serving platter, and headed for the dining table. "Clay! Come carve up this ham while Brenda Leigh calls her ladyfriend!"

"She's supposed to be going to Park City tonight, to be with her parents." Brenda murmured, slipping on a pair of oven mitts and reaching for the greenbean casserole.

"Oh that. She can't leave til 3 in the morning, so she'll be able to come for dinner. I heard her telling that nice Andy Flynn about it as we were leaving the station." Willie Rae grinned, and skirted around Brenda back into the kitchen. "Give her a call. It's not right to leave family alone on Christmas Eve, after all."

"I'll just…go call her…then." Brenda felt like she was speaking a foreign language. But she headed to her room to change, and make the phone call.


	62. Chapter 62

She flopped across the bed, and stared at the phone. Telling her parents had gone exceptionally well. So well, that she was actually a little bit concerned that this was going to end up a dream sequence, like that one season of Dallas. And she couldn't help but wonder if her good fortune would hold out through an entire holiday dinner starring her parents and Sharon. Wasn't this all just a little fast? Still, she supposed she ought to at least call Sharon, and let her know that the coming out part hadn't resulted in cardiac arrest for either of her parents, and neither of them had threatened to roast her right along with the turkey. If the tables were turned, she'd want to know Sharon was okay. She keyed in the digits, and rolled over on her back.

"Raydor." Sharon sounded distracted as she answered the phone.

"I'm not dead, and you're not on a plane."

"Of course you're not dead. But are they praying for your immortal soul?"

"Sharon! We're not Catholic. They'd tell the preacher to pray for me. But no. Apparently Rachel Maddow and Ellen paved the way for us. Also Jodi Foster. Which is ironic, since I wasn't allowed to watch cable as a child."

"I'm glad it went well." Sharon laughed.

"So well, in fact, that you're invited for dinner." Brenda bit her lip.

"Tonight?"

"Well, yes. My mother overheard you saying it was going to be a red-eye flight. And now that you're on her give-a-damn list, you should be prepared to be fed at every opportunity."

"But this evening is generally reserved for family, is it not?"

"Sharon. You're family now. If they're not gonna try and pray away the gay, I think they're just going to act like you're my boyfriend, only with better hair and shoes."

"Hm. What should I wear? Are Southern Family dinners dress up events?"

"Course not. Wear those jeans I like. And a nice top and maybe a blazer. "

"I'm not wearing the jeans you like. Your parents are there."

"Spoilsport. Dinner should be ready in an hour. See you soon."

"Should I bring anything?"

"Those jeans."

"Good bye, Brenda."

Brenda ended the call with a swipe of her finger, and stared up at the ceiling. It had been a very long time since she'd had any inclination to pray, but she couldn't help herself, and she sent a silent plea to the heavens that everyone could make it through dinner without any major breakdowns in communication. Rolling to the side of the bed, she stood up, and stood in front of her closet. Her parents weren't dressed up, Willie Rae was in slacks and a Christmas sweater festooned with reindeer that resembled llamas; and Clay was in jeans and an UGA sweatshirt. Sharon would be casual. But that didn't mean Brenda had to be. She rested her hand on _the _red dress. It fit the seasonal theme, if you looked just so—maybe Mrs. Claus had a posh side…

Clay glanced up as Brenda came down the stairs into the living room.

"I take it your new ladyfriend will be joining us for dinner then?" He drawled, arching an eyebrow at her dress.

"She'll be here soon, yes. Y'all are going to behave, right Daddy?" Brenda replied, ignoring the jibe.

"Somehow, Brenda Leigh, I feel as though I ought to be asking you that question, 'stead of the other way round. But your mother and I agree, we're not doing anything to scare this one off."

Brenda opened her mouth to object, and then thought better of it. If the old-fashioned need for their baby girl to have a caretaker meant that they were going to accept this—thing—with Sharon, then she wasn't going to jinx it. She smiled tightly at her father, and then moved into the kitchen.

"Is Sharon able to make it?" Willie Rae asked as she leaned over the oven to turn off the timer.

"Yes, Mama, she'll be here in a little bit. You need any help with anything else?" Brenda spoke over her shoulder as she reached for a wine glass, and then fetched the merlot, removing the cork with a resonant pop.

Willie Rae shook her head as she used her ankle to shove the oven door closed, then turned with two piping hot pies balanced in her hands. She set them on the trivets already in place on the counter, and Brenda couldn't help but wonder when she'd acquired trivets. Fritz must've bought them, and then left them behind. She scanned the kitchen. So much of her history with her ex was right here in this room, and the incongruity of her first Christmas without him, and her first Christmas with Sharon was a surprisingly stark contrast. Apart from a toothbrush, and an extraordinarily large bottle of something called 'detangling rinse', Sharon hadn't done much in terms of marking her territory. Brenda smiled to herself, remembering the first time Fritz spent the night; she'd woken the next morning to find a note apologizing for his stealthy departure, he'd been called into work-but he'd left his belt looped over her bedpost, and his cufflinks on the nightstand, and she could remember how right those things had looked—how easily he'd fit into the predefined framework of her life. She wondered if the simplicity of that, compared to the sometimes overwhelming complexities of her relationship with Sharon were omens. Maybe this thing with Sharon would work out, if only because they were actually working at it.

The doorbell jarred her from her musings, and she set her wine aside and started into the living room to answer the door. Her heart sank a little when she realized Clay had been faster to his feet, and was already pulling the heavy wooden door open to reveal a smiling Sharon, or at least, Brenda thought she was smiling, but it was hard to tell behind the mountain of presents the brunette held in her arms. Clay shoved the screen door open, and held out his hands.

"Here, let me take some of that off your shoulders, and you come on in and make yourself at home. Guess you already know where everything is, seeing as you've been seeing my daughter for the better part of the year." He swept a pile of papers aside on the table in the entry, and stacked the gifts there.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Johnson, I appreciate the help." Sharon smiled widely, a smile Brenda wasn't sure she'd ever seen before.

"Call me Clay. We're practically family, after all!" He boomed, clapping her on the shoulder. "And you can call Brenda Leigh's mama Willie Rae, isn't that right Willie Rae?" He called out, as he ushered Sharon inside.

"'Course she can call me Willie Rae, I already told her that at the station! Stop tormenting those poor girls, and come set down at the table like we're civilized folk. Sharon might think we're Methodist!"

At that, Sharon let out a short laugh that made Clay grin in her direction. Brenda watched the crinkles at the corners of his eye deepen, and let out a sigh of relief when he squeezed Sharon's shoulder and nodded. He headed for the dining room, tossing off a wink in Brenda's direction as he passed.

"Methodist?" Sharon whispered, and then chuckled again. "So I would've been in the dog house if I'd taken you to a Methodist church, but having my way with you gets me invited to Christmas dinner?"

Brenda tried her best to look scandalized, but the inelegant giggle snort seemed to stand in the way of that goal. She stepped forward and slid her arms around Sharon, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"There are apparently only two things my parents can't stand. Georgia Tech fans, and Methodists. Who knew?" Brenda breathed in the citrus cloud that surrounded Sharon, before pulling away suddenly. "You don't like Georgia Tech, do you?!" She whispered, horrified.

Sharon shook her head, gamely trying to keep a straight face. "No, but I don't root for UGA, either. I'm strictly a Gamecocks girl."

~~~  
As they gathered around the table, Sharon couldn't help but goggle at the volume of food artfully arranged around a centerpiece that surely couldn't have belonged to Brenda. She slid into her seat across from Brenda, and realized that thanks to the sprawling array of flowers and beads spilling forth from the bronzed vase, there was no way she was going to be able to see Brenda's face, a thing she'd been counting on, to better navigate the dinner conversation. Though the elder Johnsons seemed genuinely pleased at her presence, Sharon admitted to a certain Yankee-induced prejudice, in that she expected Southern Protestants of any flavor to be inherently homophobic.

Motion in her peripheral vision caused her attention to snap back to the dinner table, where both Willie Rae and Clay had their hands extended towards her. Lapsed though she was, the Catholic in her cringed at being part of a WASP prayer circle. Still, when in Rome, and all that. She took their hands, and bowed her head.

"God is good, God is great, we thank you for this food, let's eat!" Clay solemnly intoned.

"Clayton Robert Johnson, if you don't stop showing out for our guest, you're going to have to take that RV all the way back home to find a slice of edible pumpkin' pie. Now say grace properly, so we can feed these poor girls before they waste away to nothing!" Willie Rae's tone didn't leave room for much argument.

Clearing his throat, Clay squeezed Sharon's hand a bit, before beginning again. "Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for this delicious buffet set before us, and for imbuing my Willie Rae with the ability to rattle those pots and pans with the best of them. We thank you for a quiet night with no murders and whatnot; so that Brenda's new ladyfriend can stay and play Yahtzee with us after dinner. And we thank you for giving us a daughter for whom, hopefully, the third time will be the charm, and who decided to make a career in California, because if it had to be someplace other than Georgia, at least it's not cold. Amen."

Willie Rae grumbled a grudging Amen, and Brenda, then Sharon, followed suit. Clay handed the platter of ham to Sharon, and Brenda reached for the baked macaroni & cheese. Willie Rae began buttering a biscuit, and looked appraisingly at Sharon.

"Brenda Leigh tells me you have children. Tell me about them." She smiled, as she spoke.

"Serena is 26, and in her 3rd year of medical school. She has always been my serious, studious, over-achiever. She puts 110% into everything she does, from learning to walk, to learning how to perform surgeries. I worry that I forgot to teach her how to have fun. Jeff is 24, and a junior, majoring in either pizza and beer, or Information Technology, although they may actually be the same thing, if the cybercrimes division at the station is any indication. He's a good student, and in Phi Beta Kappa, which is an honor society, but he's also the social chair of Sigma Nu, which is…decidedly not an honor society. I feel blessed to have managed to raise them without irreparable physical or mental damage, and if they make it past the age of 30 without coming home to live in my basement, or being convicted of anything, then I will count myself among the mothers who aren't that bad." She spooned some suspiciously casserolish green beans on to her plate, and tried to surreptitiously determine what was coating them.

"They sound lovely! Does Serena have a beau?"

"As I understand it, she is dating, but it's nothing serious, as she feels she doesn't have time for that right now."

"Nonsense. There's always time for love!" Willie Rae cut into the meat on her plate, and speared a piece, before pointing her fork at Sharon. "Careers are important nowadays, but we have to try and make sure our girls don't forget that the heart is a muscle what needs exercise just like any other one. I'm counting on you helping me out on that with Brenda, of course."

Sharon smiled tightly around a forkful of-what she had belatedly realized-was actually green bean casserole, clearly drowned in cream of something soup, and then covered in those strange fried onion crisps that seemed to be available in every convenience store ever. The marshmallow casserole she'd helped Willie Rae with at the station had been a breeze for her game face. But then, she hadn't had to try a bite. The beans, however, were testing her ability to act her age, and not deposit the whole unpleasant mess into her napkin. She reached for her water, and tried not to sigh audibly with relief after swallowing.

"Serena has always expressed an interest in starting a family after she finishes school, and her residency. As I said before, her level of focus is intense, and she doesn't like to give less than her best. Residency is the most challenging time someone hoping to become a doctor. I'm fairly certain she's reticent about having to split her attentions between an essential step in her training, and a love interest. When she gives herself a chance to fall, I suspect some lucky young man won't know what hit him. But that will happen when she's ready."

Brenda could practically hear her mother's internal monologue, bemoaning yet another career minded woman thwarting her plans at spoiling squalling infants. She quickly swallowed the bit of ham she'd taken, and cleared her throat.

"So, at the station, Fritz said y'all had some exciting news! I've been dying to hear it all day!"

"Well, sugar, we already mentioned it, earlier, but maybe you missed it because you were worried about how we'd take the news about you and Sharon. Your mother and I are now the proud owners of an Airstream Recreational Vehicle. So we'll be spending a few months here in L.A, catching up! Then we'll go and visit your brothers." Clay took a pull from his beer, apparently oblivious to the look of horror that crossed Brenda's face before she could school her features.

"That is exciting! A few months? I don't think you can keep it parked on my street that long, though."

"Oh, don't you worry your head about that. There's an RV park about 15 minutes away from here, so we can have brunch on the weekends you're not working, and I can make you some meals to keep in your freezer. You're not getting any younger, Brenda, and I worry about how much Chinese food you can eat, what with all that MSG and such." Willie Rae winked at Sharon, and continued; "But your father and I weren't born yesterday, so we'll call first, before we show up, so we don't stumble across any improprieties."

Sharon dearly wished she could see Brenda's face, but judging from the twinkle in Clay's eye, it was probably exactly as horrified as she pictured it. Though she kept a neutral expression, if she was being honest with herself, (and that was becoming an alarming regularity since Brenda had become a fixture in her life) the prospect of having the Johnsons so near was jarring. She supposed she was glad that Brenda had already basically said "I love you", because something told her the coming months would be challenging, to say the least.


	63. Chapter 63

Sharon was grateful that tradition for this particular holiday included champagne. Her plans for ringing in the new year with a very naked Brenda had been thwarted by the elder Johnsons, and so now, she found herself tucked into the corner of the sofa, clutching the stem of her champagne flute like a life preserver, and wishing she'd foregone dinner so she could be well on her way to drunk right now.

"Now Clay, don't disparage that nice Ryan Seacrest boy. It's not his fault Dick Clark got too old to be out in all that freezing mess, with those silly young people." Willie Rae was crocheting, and her hands flew so quickly around the yarn and hook, that Sharon had a hard time discerning how the whole ensemble wasn't suffering from friction burns.

"I'm not disparaging anything. I'm just saying, this boy don't even look old enough to shave, let alone help the whole dang country bring in a new year. At least that Anderson Cooper fella has hit puberty." Clay had his arms crossed behind his head, and his long legs extended into the living room, ankles crossed. A toothpick seemed to be at the mercy of one corner of his mouth or the other, and his words came clipped around it.

"But he always has that wretched woman on with him! That terrible, vulgar, Kimmy, Kelly, oh what IS her name?" Willie Rae held her hands still, and looked fiercely ponderous.

"Kathy Griffin." Sharon supplied wryly.

"KATHY GRIFFiN! That's it." Willie Rae nodded emphatically, returning to her furious crocheting. "She is just awful, that woman. At least Ryan Seacrest can carry a show without needing a sidekick with a potty mouth."

"Willie Rae, she's not that bad. Besides, you shouldn't talk bad about the lesbians in front of our girls." Clay rubbed at his eyes.

Sharon sat up a little straighter. She was pretty sure she was being defended, although against what, she wasn't entirely sure, but it was the first time she'd heard Clay utter the actual word lesbian.

"Daddy. Kathy Griffen isn't gay, I'm pretty sure. She has a lot of gay fans, but I don't think she's a lesbian, or if she is, I don't think she's out." Brenda wriggled her icy toes under Sharon's thigh, smirking when the other woman shifted to accommodate the intrusion.

"Are you sure? Because honestly, I mean obviously you can't judge books and all, just look at you, punkin, but if ever there was a book to judge, I was sure it was her."

"CLAY! Lesbians come in all shapes and sizes, isn't that right, Sharon?" Willie Rae smiled encouragingly.

"Ah. Uh, yes. Yes. Just like straight women. You just never know." Sharon drained her glass, and set it on the end table next to the sofa. The clock on the VCR (now programmed, thanks to Sharon) glowed 11:58. She unfolded herself from her seat, and stood, then turned and offered a hand to Brenda.

"Come on, let's make sure we all have bubbly for the dropping of the ball!"

Brenda arched an eyebrow at her, but gamely took the offered hand, and hauled herself to her feet, swaying a bit. She picked up her own glass from the coffee table, and leaned to grab Clay and Willie Rae's glasses as well. She handed off Clay's flute to Sharon, and the two of them headed for the kitchen. Brenda set the two glasses down on the island, and moved to fetch the champagne out of the fridge, when she found herself pressed against the counter, Sharon warm against her back.

"They say, that whatever you're doing at midnight, is what you'll be doing the rest of the year," Sharon whispered, her breath hot in Brenda's ear. She sucked the lobe between her teeth, and slid her hands around to snake beneath the loose-fitting Academy sweatshirt Brenda wore, cupping her breasts, thumbing her nipples into stiffened peaks.

Brenda gasped a little, and pressed her backside more firmly against Sharon's groin. She meant to whisper her mild objections, a quick reminder to Sharon that her parents were right there in the other room, but Sharon slipped one hand down over her belly, and under the waistband of her yoga pants, and Brenda forgot quite why she was going to object to anything, after all.

"It's not that I'm not fond of your parents, you understand." Sharon was delighted at how quickly Brenda's arousal coated her questing fingers as she slipped them through slick folds. "They're lovely people, and they made you, so I'm eternally grateful to them." She slid two fingers inside, and pressed the heel of her hand against Brenda's clit, encouraging a steady motion by guiding Brenda with her hips. "But what I want to be doing the rest of the year, Brenda, is this. I want to be inside you, I want you on my fingers, my lips, my tongue. I want to press myself against you, and forget where you begin and I end. I want to taste the salt on your skin, and smell the way you want me, hear the way you say my name when you're on the edge. I want to feel the ache in my thighs in the morning, and know it's because of how well we loved each other the night before. That's how I want to spend this year. It's 11:59, Brenda, so if you plan on spending the year like that, I need for you to come for me."

Sharon redoubled her efforts, tweaking turgid nipples with one hand, and pressing the pads of her fingers upwards, curling them against that tiny rough bit of skin that caused Brenda to swear softly as her body began to tremble. Sharon slid her other hand inside Brenda pants, and pressed a finger to the left of her clit, sliding it over the sensitized bud, and Brenda came apart in her hands, all sticky warmth and hushed moans. Sharon laved kisses along her neck and jaw, bringing her down slowly, before pulling her hands free, and letting the waistband of Brenda's pants snap back against her abdomen with a pop.

"Now. You better hurry up and pour those flutes. We've only got about 45 seconds before it's 12:01, and I mean to toast with your parents at midnight. Happy New Year, Brenda."

"Happy New Year, Sharon. I love you." Brenda sounded a little breathless, and Sharon couldn't imagine a better start to her year than this.


	64. Chapter 64

The winter months slogged onwards, January melting into February, and Brenda found herself wondering how two women handled Valentine's Day. She recalled Sharon saying she was the woo-er, as it were, but Brenda felt like maybe she wanted to do something for Sharon, as thanks for the woman putting up with the fairly frequent intrusions of her parents, and that one time Joel had left a hairball in the toe of one of Sharon's sling backs. And also perhaps for the volley of temper fits she'd launched at Sharon over the last few months. And also because telling Pope had gone about as well as expected, which was to say not well at all, since during that meeting, she might have said that Sharon was a better lay than Pope on his best day, and while she meant it as a compliment, Sharon seemed to think that was the sort of thing one didn't just blurt out to their boss, even if, as Brenda pointed out, he wasn't going to be their boss much longer, if Delk had his way. And the culmination of all of that was what led Brenda to the little florist Morales had suggested, after Brenda had accosted him near the coffee maker, whispering about needing discreet flowers. The man behind the counter was what her daddy would call light in the loafers, but he seemed to know his stuff when it came to bouquets. She stopped him in the middle of his explanation on the deeper meanings of tulips, and handed him her Visa card.

"She's the most important thing in the world to me. I just need a bouquet that says that. I don't need a whole PhD in botany, thank you so much."

He took her card, smiling. "You leave it to Eduardo, and you will be happy. She will be happy. You both will be happy together."

Truth be told, Brenda never put much trust or stock in people who spoke about themselves in the third person, but his winsome grin and seemingly encyclopedic knowledge about flowers and their meanings meant that she was willing to put her faith in him. She wandered around the tiny storefront, smelling the fragrant blossoms of a number of plants, as Eduardo maneuvered around her like a tiny tornado, whipping stems from buckets with a speed that belied his age. He whistled as he worked, arranging the blooms into a cacophony of sultry colors, richly textured and layered within a beautiful cut crystal vase. He tied a comparatively subtle ribbon around the neck of the vase, and pushed it across the counter.

"Here. Smells like love, does it not?" He smiled, the skin at his eyes crinkling in a way that made Brenda think of Sharon. She leaned in, inhaling the perfume of the flowers, her eyes fluttering closed at the complex layering of scents. Straightening up, she opened her eyes and turned her chocolate gaze on the petite man before her.

"It's exactly perfect. How did you…" She trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her question.

"You make it easy, with the look on your face when you talk about her. I just choose flowers that make me feel like you look." He turned away, sliding her card through the tiny reader attached to the register. "You protect that love. Don't do things that need bouquets like this. Eventually, flowers stop being able to solve all of your problems, you listen to Eduardo. So many people come in here, and they ask for flowers to apologize, or to express sympathy, but you come to get flowers for the most important thing in the world to you, so you remember that, when she is also the most important pain in your tush, okay?"

Brenda laughed, nodding as she took her card from him. He slid the vase into a box that was probably bigger than it needed to be, as it was nearly half as tall as he was, but it was lined with Styrofoam that seemed shaped to hold the vase snugly, and the top of the box allowed for enough space that the flowers weren't touching the cardboard. He rang a tiny bell on the counter, and a young boy, maybe 15 or 16 emerged from the back of the shop.

"Miguelito, you carry this to the nice lady's car, don't drop it, it is my masterpiece, okay?"

"Si, Papi." He smiled, and Brenda was struck by the resemblance between father and son. She followed him out of the store, the bells on the door merrily tinkling their departure.

~~~

Later that evening, Brenda stood nervously on Sharon's porch, the hugely awkward box of flowers at her feet, as she pulled her dress straight, and leaned on the doorbell. She could hear the even click of Sharon's shoes against the hardwood floor, and she hurriedly picked up the box, holding it in front of her, a combination of shield and peace offering.

"You're early…what on earth?" Sharon interrupted herself as she hauled open the heavy door, and came nose to cardboard with a flustered Brenda.

"I know I'm early, but I couldn't wait to see you. I hate it when you're cross with me, and I know I said a whole lot of stuff I shouldn't have said but he just made me SO MAD, and you ARE a better partner than he EVER was, and to think that he was even THINKING of you…" Brenda was derailed from her tirade when Sharon gently took the box from her arms, and set it aside, before pulling her in for a kiss.

"I'm not mad anymore. I was just embarrassed, and the torrent of hostility you unleashed on Pope was icing on that cake. To be clear, I'm not embarrassed about us, or because people know about us, but because I'm not accustomed to being the subject of the inevitable gossip. I don't have experience with the finer points of being involved with a co-worker, as my previous relationship with a colleague didn't begin until after she'd transferred to a different department. But that's neither here nor there. What's in this box?"

"Open it and see." Brenda leaned against the door, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Her smile belied the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. She'd never tried to woo anyone before, and she suspected Sharon was a difficult nut to crack under the best of circumstances. Still, she thought the colors in the arrangement matched the riot of autumnal tones in Sharon's hair, and the golds and greens in her eyes, and the scents combined in a rich layer, as complex and varied as Sharon's own scent. Sharon pulled the flaps open, and gasped, reaching in to extract the vase from its Styrofoam nest.

"It's gorgeous!" She exclaimed, breathing in the fragrance, and admiring the vividly contrasting colors.

"Happy Valentine's Day. I um, I was going to get you chocolate, but I realized I'd probably eat it all anyway, so this seemed like a better idea." To Brenda's eternal horror, Sharon seemed to be tearing up. "Oh gracious. Don't cry, for heaven's sake, it's just flowers!"

"I've not gotten flowers from anyone since I graduated from the Academy, and my father brought me a dozen roses as congratulations for following appropriately in his footsteps. I can't tell you how much it means to me, that you thought of me, and thought that I'd like something as frivolous as flowers. Normally I get absurdly practical gifts, like leather polish for my holster, or appliances, or stationary." Sharon discreetly wiped at the corners of her eyes.

"Well, I did ponder getting you a package of those Bic pens that started all of this between us. But then I thought about your desk, and how you'd never lose a pen there, and how my desk looks like a hurricane has swept across it all the time, and I figured I'd probably lose the darned things before I had a chance to stick a bow on them. It's hard to lose a bouquet when it's the size of a toddler, even on my desk."

Sharon laughed, and set the vase on the table behind her sofa, before turning and wrapping her arms around Brenda, holding her close. They embraced for a long moment, and Brenda drew back, laying gentle kisses on Sharon's eyelids, and forehead.

"You, my Cap'n, are the person most deserving of frivolity. You spend so much time making sure things are organized and sane for everybody, that you deserve flowers, and clowns, and balloons, and maybe those tiny monkeys that play instruments."

"I'd like to state, for the record, that clowns are grounds for divorce in my world." Sharon chuckled.

"Surely you aren't scared of them!" Brenda's voice was laced with mirth.

"Scared is a verb I'd save only for armadillos, and the occasional brush with death. But I am not fond of clowns, no. They disturb me on a level similar to things powered by animatronics, and the sound of Styrofoam squeaking."

"I will never get tired of learning these little quirks in your unflappable armor."

"I'm sure, Chief." Sharon replied wryly. "Now, let's learn more over dinner. I believe you said you were taking me out."

"I am, at that. And I even made reservations!"

"Wonders never cease, Brenda. You're making me feel positively spoiled."

"Don't sass, Sharon. It's not becoming."

~~~

Brenda thought revisiting the Italian restaurant where Sharon had taken her on their first official date was a brilliant plan, and she was pleased when Sharon hummed delightedly as they turned into the parking lot. The Maître D ushered them to the same table, thanks to a generous tip from Brenda when she'd stopped by to make the reservations, and there was already a bottle of the red on the table, aerating. Brenda pulled Sharon's chair out with a mock flourish, and gestured for the brunette to have a seat. Sharon complied, arching an eyebrow at the younger woman.

"Brenda, I get the sense you're wooing me. Or doing your best impression of a southern gentleman."

"Well that's just silly! Can't I do nice things for the woman I love?" Brenda paled as she realized what she'd said. "I mean..."

"Don't take it back. You were asleep, and probably didn't hear me, but I've already told you that I love you. And although confessing our love for one another on Valentine's Day might fall under the heading of trite, it doesn't change the fact that I am, in fact, in love with you." Sharon's voice was thick with emotion.

"I don't want to take it back. I just…you spooked so easily before, and I didn't want to move too fast for you. But I've had the notion for a while. "

"I got the sense from something you said a while back, but it was another fairly oblique reference, along the lines of 'it's one of the things you loved about me', and so I took it with a grain of salt."

"I have a terrible time minding my mouth around you." Brenda poured wine into both of their glasses, and took a long sip. "You sneak past all of my filters."

"Indeed. I've noticed that. Particularly in front of our superior officers." Sharon smirked.

"Hush."

The waiter appeared, and they placed their orders, mushroom risotto for Sharon, and a primavera for Brenda, along with crisp salads, and a loaf of warm, thickly crusted Italian bread. They chatted about work, and Sharon mentioned that her children were coming in for Spring Break in March. Brenda stopped eating, and glanced up, looking slightly startled.

"They want to meet me?" She echoed weakly.

"They do. I can tell you're not thrilled with the prospect, and I assure you, they'll understand." Sharon's voice held a tinge of frost.

"No! No, I don't mind meeting them at all. It's just…what if they don't like me?" She blinked a few times. "I'm not always the easiest person to get along with, after all."

"That may be true, but my children are excellent judges of character—they take after me in that regard. And even when you were busily thwarting my every move, I had a grudging respect and admiration for your tenacity and perseverance, even if I questioned your tactics. My kids will have the benefit of getting to know you without all of that framework, and with the added bonus of knowing that you've made their mother extremely happy. I should also note that since my relationship with their step-mother ended, I haven't bothered introducing them to any of the other women I've dated. So they recognize that you mean something to me, and they're smart enough to behave themselves. "

"Well all right. And besides. They're probably kittens compared to my mama and daddy, and that went so much better than I was expecting—how bad could it be?"

"Your confidence is inspiring, Chief." Sharon replied archly.

The waiter appeared to clear their plates, and offer up the dessert menu.

"We won't need the menu. A zucatto and two spoons." Brenda grinned wickedly.

"This all seems so familiar…"

"Why mess with perfection, after all?"

"Indeed."

They shared the rich confection, and Brenda encouraged Sharon to finish off the wine, before they took their leave. On the way home, Brenda realized that a slightly tipsy Sharon Raydor was an extremely handsy Sharon Raydor, and she was grateful that she'd limited her wine consumption, because navigating the highways back to Sharon's house required all of her focus, thanks in no small part to the questing digits wandering along her thighs, and the warm breath on her neck. As she put the car in park in Sharon's driveway, she leaned down and brushed her hand along the smooth skin of Sharon's ankle.

"Do you remember?" She whispered, dragging her nails along the gentle curve of her calf.

"Yes. Of course I do." Sharon breathed, letting her head fall back against the headrest.

"I wanted so much to do this…" She slid her hand over the cap of Sharon's knee, drifting along the smooth skin of her inner thigh.

"I wanted you to touch me, just like that. Even though I knew it was crazy and even though I knew you were married, and even though I knew what it felt like to be the unwitting partner—I couldn't help how much I wanted you."

"I think it was inevitable, don't you? I mean, from the start, my feelings for you were stronger than normal. Initially, it was rage against your rules, and your structure. Who has time for all that? But then, sometimes, when we'd butt heads, afterwards, I'd have this ache, deep in my spine, or my belly, and I'd chalk it up to misfired synapses, the thin line between love and hate, or something. That day in the morgue, though…it all changed."

"For the better, I'd hope." Sharon's voice was ragged with arousal, as Brenda's fingers played across the damp fabric of her panties.

"I'd say so. Now, I plan on taking you to bed, Sharon Raydor, and loving you all night long. I also plan on going first."

"After you, Chief Johnson." Sharon replied, gasping as Brenda slid her fingers along slick folds. "Always."


End file.
